


Worthy is the Lamb

by groolover



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Classical Music, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-05 11:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 22,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groolover/pseuds/groolover
Summary: Harry's stressed – by work, child care, and being alone. Maybe an unexpected encounter with an old rival will add to his stress... or maybe it won't.





	1. Paint and Balloons

**Author's Note:**

> This story is being written as part of [Slythindor100](http://slythindor100.livejournal.com)'s "25 days of Draco and Harry" challenge for 2018, which involves writing a minimum of 100 words on each of the first 25 days of December, based on a picture prompt posted daily.
> 
> I feel quite guilty starting this when I still haven't finished my last two attempts! (Although I do still plan to!) But here goes…
> 
> **Prompt:** 1: Harrods department store

"Sorry! ... Excuse me, please! ... Sorry!" Ginny Weasley was charging up escalators two steps at a time, with somewhat predictable results. (Although the people carrying the biggest bags were _not_ keeping to the right, so they deserved it, in her opinion.)

Leaving a trail of glaring shoppers in her wake, she finally reached the third floor and dashed to the entrance to the Christmas Grotto, where she stood on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd, still slightly out of breath.

"Bloody hell, Gin, am I glad to see you," said Harry Potter from behind her. "I was about to lose my temper with him. This has _not_ been a good afternoon."

Ginny spun round and burst out laughing. Harry's face was completely painted in a bizarre pattern of bright green and red colours, and he was attempting to hold what looked like a giant dragon made of balloons, while a wriggling Teddy Lupin attempted to escape from the grip of Harry's other hand. 

"Sorry I'm so late," Ginny said, when the obvious exhaustion in Harry's face (somehow exacerbated by the surreal paint) guilted her into stopping her giggling. "The match took ages. What on earth happened to your face?" 

"Did you win?" asked Harry.

"Eventually. I scored four, but the Cannons were unusually good. Every time one of us scored, they got one back. But then Gemma finally caught the Snitch, and here I am. Now, answer the question!"

"Well, Andromeda saw an advert that said that Harrods was opening a Department of Surprise & Delight for December, and that there would be 'unexpected moments of magic for all the family to enjoy'. Sounded nice enough for a four-year-old, so I agreed to bring him. But it turns out that their main 'moment of magic' involves face-painting, and that's a bit of a waste of time for a Metamorphmagus... Teddy kept asking what the point was, when he could just do it himself with no paint. Even so, I thought he might quite like it if he actually tried it, so I volunteered to have mine done first to encourage him... but he still refused."

"Oh dear. But I see you got a nice balloon dragon, though?"

"It's pretty impressive, isn't it? But it was a bit awkward while the guy was doing it, because Ted insisted he was doing it wrong, and was trying to tell him what dragons _actually_ look like, and eventually someone else in the queue said that dragons aren't real, and Ted started arguing. Oh, and don't get me started on what happened with the magician!" Harry sighed. "Anyway, you're up. Thanks so much for agreeing to have him overnight – I would've felt bad taking him back to Andromeda when I promised to give her a bit of respite."

"It's fine, don't worry," said Ginny. "Dean and I haven't had him for ages, it'll be fun. And it's not your fault they've suddenly decided to call you all in for a raid. Ron's quite excited, by the way."

"I'm not sure why," said Harry. "Last time this happened, we didn't find any trace of the suspects, but they still didn't let us go home until the next day. I hope this one's quicker. And more productive."

"Ron's at The Burrow stuffing his face," Ginny told him. "He says the only thing he hated about the last raid was that he hadn't eaten properly first. Although I'm not sure how Hermione'll react when she hears he's gone to his mum for food rather than going home."

"She'll laugh and then go and join him, you know she will," said Harry. "I'm not hungry – Ted and I went to McDonalds before we came in here. But I think I need coffee before I can face Auror duty."

"Don't get it in here, it'll cost a fortune," Ginny pointed out.

"I know," said Harry. "There's a Starbucks just down the road. I should just have time to pop in. Might have to do some surreptitious Imperiusing if there's a queue, though."

Ginny grinned. "The Boy Who Lived to be Bad to the Bone. I always suspected it would come to this."

"Shush, you," said Harry, but his eyes had started to regain their usual twinkle. "Hey, Ted, look who's come to see you!"

Teddy, who was apparently engrossed in watching a series of approximate-looking balloon animals being created on the far side of the room, whirled round at this. His hair started to turn ginger at the sight of Ginny, causing Harry to cast a panicked nonverbal spell before anyone noticed. 

"Ginny!" shouted Teddy, and jumped into her arms. "I like you. Harry's boring. Where are we going?"

"Don't take it to heart, Harry," said Ginny gently, seeing the crestfallen look on his face. "You know how much he loves you."

Harry smiled wryly. "I suppose so," he said. "It's hard to remember on days like today, though. Anyway, at least he's happy now, which is the main thing. Thanks again, Gin. I owe you."

"Go and get some coffee, and then you can whinge about it all to my brother when you get to work," she said, taking the balloon dragon from Harry's hand and shifting Teddy to get a better grip on him. "And come and visit me and Dean sometime. We never see you!"

"I will, I promise," said Harry. "Bye, Teddy. See you soon."

"Your face looks funny," Teddy informed him, as Ginny laughed and walked away, attempting to wave but succeeding only in hitting people with the huge balloon dragon.

"Bugger," sighed Harry, who'd forgotten about the paint. That meant a further delay before he could get coffee. He ducked into the gents' toilets and spent five minutes hiding in a cubicle (ten seconds fixing his face with magic, and the rest of the time waiting until anyone who'd seen him enter should have left). 

Face restored, Harry strode down the three escalators to the ground floor and then out into the cold December twilight. He weaved his way across the Brompton Road, narrowly avoiding being hit by a taxi, and was relieved to see that the Starbucks by the bus stop wasn't overly full – there were only three people in the queue when Harry joined it. 

Yawning, Harry let his gaze wander round the room as he waited to be served. Most of the tables were occupied by couples of about Harry's age, although the one nearest the door was surrounded by a group of five very loud teenage girls who were showing each other things on their phones and cackling. Next to them was a young man, again about Harry's age. He was on his own; he had his eyes closed and a frown on his face, and was muttering to himself.

"Bloody hell," said Harry, and then winced when he realised he'd said that out loud. It was Draco Malfoy.


	2. Cappuccino and Muttering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is very curious about Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 2: Chestnuts roasting on an open fire (first line of "The Christmas Song")

In the five minutes before Harry was at the front of the queue ordering his cappuccino, he couldn't help glancing over at Malfoy several times. Each time he did so, Malfoy's eyes were still closed and the muttering continued almost nonstop, but Harry realised that the frown only appeared when the screeching girls screeched particularly loudly. Encouraged by this fact – but even more so by the fact that there were no other empty seats in the whole place – he collected his drink from the end of the counter and approached Malfoy's table.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked. 

There was no response, so he repeated the question a bit louder. Then he noticed that Malfoy was wearing earbuds that were connected to an iPhone on the table in front of him. Raising his eyebrows, Harry decided to sit down anyway. He was relieved that the noisy girls left a moment later – when they'd gone, the background music was audible for the first time, and Harry smiled when he recognised Nat King Cole singing The Christmas Song, which had always been one of his favourites. 

He stared at Malfoy while spooning up the froth on his cappuccino. He hadn't seen the guy in four years – since the Death Eater trials, in fact. Harry had participated in some of the trials – he'd felt he had to speak up on behalf of Malfoy and his mother – but, casting his mind back now, he couldn't for the life of him remember what the outcome was for them, other than that they hadn't been sent to Azkaban with Lucius.

Malfoy's hair was quite a bit longer than it had been at the trials – hence Harry not noticing the earbuds until he was closer – but otherwise he didn't look any different. He was dressed in all black, including an artfully-draped scarf, and looked effortlessly elegant – and slightly out of place in a busy Starbucks in Knightsbridge.

As Harry was gulping down his cappuccino – having remembered that he had to be at work fairly soon – Malfoy finally stopped muttering and nodded to himself. He reached for his phone, and as he did so he opened his eyes, looked up when he realised someone was sitting there, and froze.

"Potter," he said, after a beat. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking, and was surprised to suddenly find himself quite anxious to know.

"Malfoy," he said, opting for the easiest response. "It's been a while." 

"Is something wrong? Why are you here?"

"Nothing's wrong – at least, as far as I'm aware," said Harry. "I'm just here to get coffee. I didn't know you'd be here."

Malfoy seemed to relax slightly at this. "I see," he said. "Well, much as I'd like to chat, I'm afraid that I'm on a bit of a tight schedule today. I really need to have one more go through this, so I apologise for ignoring you. You're welcome to sit there, though, of course."

Harry was baffled. "One more go through what? What are you doing? ... Forgive me. I do really want to know, but I'm actually in a hurry too – I need to be at work in a few minutes. So I'll leave you in peace, but... could we maybe meet another day when we both have more time? I'd like to hear about how things are going for you these days – I haven't heard anything about you in years."

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again, before saying "That... would be interesting. Very well. I have time tomorrow, if that works for you? Preferably not in the morning, but any other time would be fine. And... maybe somewhere nicer than this?"

Harry grinned. "Yes, fair point. How about the cafe at the V&A? That's pretty classy. Teatime-ish?"

"Good choice, Potter. That's three times you've surprised me in as many minutes. Shall we say four o'clock? I think they close at a quarter to six." 

"Four o'clock it is. Great," said Harry. "Right, I'll leave you to it, but first, _please_ explain what you're doing, because I'm dying of curiosity."

Malfoy smiled. "Fair enough," he said. "Short version: I'm trying to memorise the tenor part to four choruses from Handel's Messiah. I'm singing it in a concert tonight, and I was only asked to do so this morning, but the choir are doing four of the choruses from memory and I don't want to spoil things by being the only singer looking at his score." 

Harry stared. "I... have so many questions right now," he said eventually. "But I will ask them tomorrow. I'm very much looking forward to hearing the answers." 

As Malfoy nodded and replaced his earbuds, Harry drained the last of his cappuccino and left, his mind whirling with the truth of what he'd just said.


	3. Owls and Sculptures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much happens in this chapter, sorry – it's mainly setting up the next one, in which I promise there will be answers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 3: An owl in flight

Harry woke up slowly. He'd only crawled into bed just after 6am, after a frustrating night which he and Ron had mostly spent standing under a tree in Leicestershire, waiting for a call to action that never came. It took him quite a bit longer than it should have to realise that what had woken him was an owl tapping at his bedroom window. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he stumbled over to the window to let it in. 

He got a lump in his throat when he did so. "Wow, you're a pretty one, aren't you?" he said. "I wonder if you're related to Hedwig? You look so like her."

The owl nipped his finger gently, and he belatedly remembered to look for a message. It took him a while to untie it from the owl's leg, as his fingers apparently hadn't woken up yet, but he eventually managed to wriggle it free.

"What time is it, anyway?" he muttered to himself, and reached for his watch. "Bloody hell, it's only half past ten. I need more sleep." He unravelled the owl's message.

_Forgot to ask which bit of the cafe. I'll be in the garden cafe near the pool, unless the weather turns bad and they close it, in which case I'll be in the main room with the high ceiling. D. Malfoy._

Harry smiled at the owl. "So you're a Malfoy owl, are you? It's very nice to meet you. Thank you for the message. ... Hang on a sec." He scribbled on the back of the note – _That's fine. See you at 4. H. Potter._ – and tied it back onto the owl's leg. "Back to Malfoy, please. Oh, and here you go." Harry reached for one of the treats he kept in a bowl on his bedside table, and the owl accepted it and flew out of the window.

Harry checked his alarm charm was still active, and then jumped back into bed. He was asleep seconds later.

*********  
At five past four, Harry was speed-walking through the gift shop of the Victoria and Albert Museum. (He'd tried to run, but got such a glare from the security guards that he thought he's better not.) The museum was busy, and he had to weave his way through the crowds looking at the sculptures in the hall after the gift shop, but eventually he burst out into the courtyard. This was much quieter – apparently not many people wanted to sit outside in December – and Harry spotted Malfoy immediately. 

"Sorry I'm a bit late," he said, when he reached the table. "I always forget how big this place is. Or how far it is from the tube."

"Somehow I suspected you might be late," said Malfoy, smiling. "It seemed... well, it seemed as if the Potter I knew at school would have been late – but of course I don't know whether you've changed. Although I assume you must have, because _that_ Potter would never have suggested meeting me for a coffee. I wasn't at all sure that you'd turn up, I have to admit."

"I don't know how much I've changed since I last saw you," mused Harry. "Maybe you can tell me, after we've talked. But mainly I was just intrigued. I have no idea what you've been doing since we left school, and I hadn't realised I _wanted_ to know that, but when I saw you I found I did. Anyway, let me get a coffee first. D'you want one?"

"I'm fine, thanks, I got one when I arrived," said Malfoy, raising his cup. 

"Won't be a sec, then," said Harry.


	4. Masculinity and Choirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco are each quite surprised at what the other has been doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 4: Naked man wrapped in fairy lights

Harry bought a cappuccino from the very bored-looking girl behind the counter, and hurried back to Malfoy's table. Malfoy was dressed quite differently to the day before, he noticed. Gone was the elegant black; in its place was a soft grey woollen sweater and faded jeans, although there was still an artfully-draped scarf. Harry laughed when he realised it was a Slytherin scarf.

"I'm not sure where my school scarf is," he commented. "Haven't seen it in a while. Did you wear that specially for me?"

"I suppose I did," admitted Malfoy, after sipping his espresso, "although I do wear it from time to time. I like the colours, and nobody I see knows it's anything other than a green and white scarf."

"So you don't spend much time with wizards, then?" asked Harry. "How come?"

"Oh no, that's not how this is going to go," said Malfoy, with a grin. "I know I didn't tell you much about what I was doing yesterday, but I don't know anything at all about what you've been up to. I... this'll sound odd, I suspect, but I feel a bit uncomfortable at the thought of telling you my story without knowing the context. If that makes any sense?"

Harry considered that. "I suppose it does," he said. "OK, Malfoy, fair enough."

"And... maybe you could call me Draco? Malfoy reminds me of the boy I used to be, and I don't like to be reminded of him."

"Have you changed your name, then?" asked Harry, surprised.

"No, but Draco's a weird enough name to Muggles that it seems to work just using one name. I do have Malfoy on official stuff, but I don't mention it unless I have to."

"Fair enough," said Harry again. "Draco it is. But only if you call me Harry. I get enough 'Potter!' at the Ministry."

Malfoy – Draco – nodded. "So I presume you did end up as an Auror, then? Or are you Minister for Magic already?"

"Auror, yes. Minister, no thank you."

Draco studied his face. "You don't want to be Minister? Why not?"

Harry sighed. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not even sure I want to be an Auror any more. In fact, I'm not sure why I ever wanted to be one. And being Minister for Magic sounds as if it's a bit like being an Auror but with any of the bits that are even slightly fun removed."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "That is a bit of a surprise, I have to say. I assumed you'd love it. What's the problem?"

"I assumed I'd love it too," said Harry, "but I don't think I was really thinking about what it involved. Ron was so enthusiastic about it, and everyone assumed that's what I'd do, and I suppose I thought it'd be kind of like what I did in the war, but without so much pressure to, you know..."

"Save the world?"

Harry grinned wryly. "Well, yes. And I thought it'd be better when I didn't have to do that any more, but it turns out it's just – well, really boring, most of the time."

"And does Weasley feel the same way?"

"I think he does a bit, but we're both far too masculine to have actually talked about it."

Draco laughed. "So I'm not very masculine, is that what you're saying?"

Harry felt himself flush, but was relieved to see that Draco appeared amused rather than offended. "I think you know I'm not saying that... and in any case it was me that brought the whole thing up. I just don't seem be able to talk about it with Ron, for some reason."

"It's obvious why that is," said Draco. At Harry's quizzical glance, he continued. "If the two of you were to talk about the fact that you're unhappy at work, you'd end up having to do something about it, and making life-changing decisions is scary and difficult, so most normal humans avoid them as long as possible. Harry Potter is a normal human being – who'd've thought it?"

Harry considered this. "It makes so much sense when you put it like that," he said, eventually. "And, damn. I'm going to have to do something about it now, aren't I? Bugger."

"Surely you must have discussed this with someone, though, if not Weasley?" asked Draco. "Your partner, at least? Do you have a partner?"

"Only an Auror partner, and that's Ron. I haven't had a serious relationship since Ginny and I broke up. What about you?"

"Nothing long-term. A few flings here and there. To be honest, it was me that ended each of them – I'm happy with my own company most of the time, and none of them felt as if they were who I wanted to be with forever."

"So you left a trail of broken-hearted women behind you, did you?"

"And men," said Draco. "Mainly men. _Only_ men, in the last couple of years, in fact." 

Harry was silent for a minute, then he laughed. "You know what image just came into my head? You, dancing in a gay club, dressed in nothing but a string of fairy lights."

Draco laughed too. "I hope the fairy lights are accentuating my best features," he said. "Although maybe it's best if I don't know. But seriously, Potter, what on earth do you think goes on in gay clubs?"

"Well, nothing quite like _that_ , at least in any gay club I've been in so far. It was just a bizarre image that came into my head. Rest assured I'll be examining my subconscious later to work out why. But in the meantime I should probably clarify that I am also gay. ... And, I asked you to call me Harry."

Draco stared at him for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "My gaydar is terrible," he said. "I can never tell which way anyone swings unless they tell me. Or, you know, start groping me or something."

"I'd be happy to grope you if you need me to," offered Harry. "Wait, did I say that out loud?"

Draco stared again, and then shook his head slightly. "I can't tell how much you're joking, so I'm going to change the subject for a while and answer your original question. Assuming you still want to know?"

"Definitely," said Harry. "And, just for the sake of transparency, I think I was only half-joking. In case _you_ really wanted to know."

Draco smiled slowly. "That's... interesting. I may return to that thought later," he said. "But let me see how briefly I can sum up my current situation first."

"Go on," said Harry. "I wasn't lying when I said I was intrigued."

"Well, I'm not sure how much you remember about my trial after the war – thank you again for speaking up for Mother and me, by the way."

"There's no need to thank me – I only told the truth. And you did send me a thank-you note at the time," Harry pointed out. "But I'm afraid I can't recall the verdict, other than that you weren't sent to Azkaban."

"Indeed, and that was entirely thanks to you, as many people told me repeatedly at the time," said Draco. "But there were conditions, and one of them was that I had to enter a training programme for a career. I wasn't sure what to do, because nothing inspired me. But then I realised that it didn't have to be a magic-related career, and that in fact it might actually be easier if it was in the Muggle world where nobody knew me."

"You really _have_ changed," Harry commented. "I can't imagine the old Malfoy being willing to do that. So, what did you end up doing?"

"You really have a short memory, don't you?" said Draco, grinning. "Singing. I ended up singing. More specifically, I'm currently in my final year of a Bachelor of Music Honours Degree in Vocal Studies at the Guildhall."

"I can't imagine you singing," Harry told him. "Are you any good? What sort of things do you sing? Can I hear you sometime? And... do you like it?"

"I absolutely love it," said Draco. "And it turns out I _am_ quite good at it. I've always liked to sing, but never when anyone else was listening, and I didn't know many songs. But now I know all about this vast array of amazing music, and I'm learning more every day. Muggle classical music isn't really known in the wizarding world, and I had no idea there was so much of it, or how good it is. But also it turns out I really enjoying performing to an audience."

"Now _that_ part doesn't surprise me," said Harry. "You were always a total drama queen at school."

Draco laughed. "I suppose I was," he admitted. "Sorry about that. But now I'm a _trained_ drama queen. And not only that, but I'm a tenor. The tenor is always the hero in opera – he almost always gets the girl. Makes a change."

"What, being a hero or getting the girl?"

"Both, I guess!" Draco finished his espresso and produced a bottle of water from his bag. "Hang on a sec. I don't often talk for this long in one go. It's not good for my voice, especially after last night." He opened the bottle and started sipping.

"Ah yes, Messiah, was it? I've heard of that. But I don't actually know what it is, and I was confused by everything else you said. Did you say you didn't know about the concert until that morning? That's not normally how it works, is it?"

Draco put the bottle on the table. "No, but that's where tenors are invaluable," he said. "There aren't many of us. Every choir is desperate for tenors. And the choir I was singing with yesterday had an extra problem. Not only are they short of tenors all the time anyway, but yesterday several of their best tenors were missing because they were all at a friend's wedding. And then two of the tenors who _were_ supposed to be there were ill. So the section was seriously underpowered, and the conductor did some emailing, and my singing teacher knows him, and that's how I ended up getting asked to do it."

"I see – I think," said Harry. "But just tell me a couple more things – first, what exactly is a tenor? I've heard of it but I don't really know. And, second, how many people are in the choir?"

"Right, so basically women and men can each be split into high voices and low voices. Women with high voices are sopranos, women with low voices are altos, men with high voices are tenors, and men with low voices are basses. In practice most people's voices are actually in the middle – which is called mezzo-soprano for women and baritone for men – but choral music is usually written for those four sections. And, I can tell you exactly what the numbers were, because I've got last night's programme in my bag. Hang on."

He rooted through his backpack until he found a small booklet, and turned to the last page. After a quick count, he announced: "Forty-two sopranos. Forty-six altos. Twelve tenors. Twenty-three basses. ... Oh, wait, those twelve tenors include the two who were ill on the day, so there were only ten. Plus me."

"I see what you mean about them being underpowered," said Harry. "Does it actually work with so few of them? I'd've thought they'd be totally drowned out by the women."

"It does seem as if they would be, but in fact a few tenors can easily beat a whole hall full of sops and altos," Draco said. "Tenors are _loud_. It really winds the altos up, actually, because they often sing at more or less the same pitch as tenors, but because it's low in their voice the sound doesn't carry very well, and because the same notes are high for us we can blast them."

"That seems odd, but I'll believe you," said Harry. "And what was it you were saying about having to memorise it?"

"That's another slightly long story," said Draco. "Let me get another coffee first."


	5. iPhones and Amens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco continues his Messiah explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 5: Phone box

Draco strode to the counter and returned soon after, carrying two cups, one of which he put down in front of Harry.

"Thanks!" said Harry, surprised.

"I figured you'd probably be ready for another," Draco told him. "Also, I have to admit I rather like the way you lick the froth off the spoon."

Harry laughed. "At least they give you a spoon here," he said. "That's one reason I prefer Starbucks to the other high street places – they give you a spoon if you ask. The others only have those ridiculous stirrers, and the froth's not the same without a spoon."

"Also they are much more likely to have plug sockets and wifi," Draco pointed out.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'd forgotten I saw you using a phone yesterday," he said. "I never thought I'd see you embracing Muggle technology."

"Well, I spend most of my time with Muggles, so I can't use magic until I get home, and they all use these phones, so it'd look weird if I didn't. I tried using an actual phone box when I started college, and they all laughed at me – apparently no-one uses those things any more! And I have to admit that I'm obsessed with my iPhone now. I'd be totally lost without it. In fact, you should feel quite honoured that I haven't looked at it since you arrived. I don't often manage that."

"Well, I'm pleased to receive such a high honour," Harry said, grinning. "I do have a phone, actually – Hermione persuaded me to try it a while ago – but it doesn't always work, so I don't use it much. It seems to react badly to my magic."

Draco nodded. "I've heard that can happen to people whose magic is particularly powerful," he said. "I should've guessed you'd be one of them."

Harry grinned. "I don't feel very powerful most of the time these days," he confessed. "Causing my phone not to work is about the most impressive thing I get to do at the moment."

"I've decided I'm going to help you solve your life crisis," Draco told him. "Although I'm not sure how just yet. I'll give it some thought. In the meantime, let me finish explaining about Messiah."

"Ooh, yes, please do," Harry said. "But it's very kind of you to want to help me. Thank you."

"Call it payment of a life debt," said Draco. "Also, it'll be a good challenge. I try to keep my mind as active as I can. Like yesterday... although that was partly the mental challenge and partly me trying to be nice."

"You were saying you had to memorise this Messiah thing? That sounds... not easy. Surely they didn't expect you to be able to do that at such short notice?"

"They didn't – which made it all the more satisfying when I did it," Draco said, smiling smugly. "The thing is, choirs do Messiah pretty regularly – lots of them do it every year – so they all know it fairly well, but I've never known a choir do it from memory before. It's far too long and complicated. But this choir has decided that they ought to be able to, as long as they don't try to make everyone learn the whole thing in one go. This year was part one of their plan, and they'd memorised four choruses out of the twenty."

"Twenty choruses? How long's a chorus? How long _is_ the whole thing, anyway?"

"It takes about three hours, including the interval, if you don't miss anything out – and we did all of it last night," Draco told him. "Most classical concerts tend to be about two hours long, so when Messiah is performed it's usual to miss out some of the movements. But the conductor last night was keen to do the whole thing. As for how long each chorus is... only a few minutes in most cases, although the Amen Chorus is a bit longer. But there are lots of solo movements as well, when the choir don't sing – there's a solo soprano, alto, tenor and bass who just sing those bits. I'd love to do the tenor solos in Messiah – I've learned them in my singing lessons – but I haven't been invited yet. I'm hoping yesterday might make them consider me in the future."

"Especially if you memorised it when they weren't expecting you to," Harry pointed out. "But I'm still not clear why you felt it was so important to do that?"

"Well, I didn't want to spoil it for them," Draco said. "They'd never done any of it from memory before, and they were so proud that they were going to, especially the Amen Chorus. But if I'd stood in the middle of them, being the only one holding a score, the audience would just have noticed me, rather than appreciating what the rest of the choir were doing. So I decided to try it. It's actually not too hard. I've sung the piece a few times before, so I know it pretty well; after that, it's mainly a positive attitude that's needed to do it from memory. That, and an acceptance that the world won't actually end if you get a word wrong."

"I see," said Harry. "That's... a very kind thing for you to have done."

Draco flushed slightly. "Don't go telling everyone. My reputation will be in tatters!"

"Your secret is safe with me," Harry reassured him. "So the only thing I'm still curious about is this Amen Chorus you've mentioned a few times. Why is that such a big deal?"

"Because it's by far the hardest one to memorise," said Draco. "It's only got one word in it: Amen."

"But surely that'd make it easier to memorise, not harder?" asked Harry, puzzled. 

"It's only got one word... but it comes _lots of times_ ," Draco explained. "And it's hard to remember how long the 'a' lasts and how long the 'men' lasts each time."

"Oh, I see!" said Harry, pleased that he actually did. "So did you get it all right?"

"Mostly. I did add a couple of extra mens, but I don't think anyone noticed."

"Impressive," said Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note:
> 
> I feel I should confess at this point that the whole idea for this story came to me during a performance of Messiah in which I sang on Saturday night, in which there were two tenors who joined us on the day in exactly the circumstances described here. Unfortunately they _didn't_ sing from memory, and it was disappointing to have that visual distraction, although the performance was definitely all the better for them being in it. It occurred to me at the time that if there'd only been _one_ invited tenor then maybe it might be more likely that he'd attempt to do it from memory, if only out of fear of being the odd one out. 
> 
> The other reason for this confession is to warn you that I have far less idea what will happen after this point!


	6. Memorials and Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 6: Christmas lights over a snowy bench

"This place is closing soon," said Draco. "Do you have somewhere else to be, or d'you fancy going for a walk?"

"That sounds nice," said Harry. "And no, I'm in no hurry. It's nice to have the chance to just chat, especially as I don't often get the chance to do that with anyone. Plus it's turned out to be unexpectedly interesting. I didn't know about any of this singing stuff."

"Well, I feel as if I've hogged the conversation, so I'm glad I wasn't totally boring," said Draco. "Let's wander over to Hyde Park, shall we? I really like it in this weather. And you can tell me why you don't chat to people."

Ten minutes later, they were in front of the Royal Albert Hall, waiting to cross the road to the park. It was already getting quite dark, and Prince Albert gleamed at them slightly eerily from his memorial. 

"Do you come here often?" asked Harry, as they weaved their way through the slowly-moving traffic.

Draco burst out laughing. "Is that your best line, Potter? I'd've thought even you might be a bit more suave than that."

Harry grinned. "I'll try to come up with something better when I decide to chat you up properly," he said. "You'll be so surprised, you won't think of saying no."

"When, not if, I notice?" commented Draco. "I must admit it's kind of refreshing to flirt with someone who's so direct. Saves a lot of time. Although it's still possible that I'm dreaming all this, because I really never expected to be having this conversation with _you_ of all people."

"The question is whether or not it's a _nice_ dream," Harry pointed out. "I never expected it either, but I'm very much enjoying it. You were right – you're very different to the boy I used to know."

"There are still bits of him in me," said Draco. "But yes, it's a very nice dream. Here, shall we sit down?"

They'd reached the Serpentine, and there were several benches overlooking the water. Fairy lights in the nearby trees gave the place a warm glow. Harry glanced around to confirm that there was no-one nearby – the nearest person was a man walking his dog past the Diana fountain – and did a quick spell to dry the bench. Draco smiled and sat down.

"Thank you. You're a useful person to have around," he said. "I'm far too paranoid to ever use my wand when I'm in the Muggle, but I can't do anything without it. Can you do lots of wandless magic, or is it just certain spells?"

Harry thought for a second as he sat down next to Draco. "I can do most spells wandlessly if I know them well," he said. "If it's a new spell, I usually have to use my wand the first couple of times."

"Well, I'd love to pretend I'm not jealous, but I'd be lying," Draco said. "Now, I want to hear all about your personal relationships, please, and why you don't have anyone to talk to. And, just so we're clear... as far as I'm concerned, you do now."

Harry smiled. "I do, don't I?" he said. "It feels... good."


	7. Couples and Bluetooth Speakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More talking... but also a bit of singing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 7: holly wreath

"So, go on," said Draco, leaning back on the bench and stretching his legs out. "Why don't you have anyone to talk to?"

Harry sighed. "I'm just being pathetic, really," he said. "I do have lots of people to talk to – of course I do. But for some reason I never seem to actually get to do that. I'm sure it's probably just me being disorganised."

"Right," said Draco. "OK then, let's see. When was the last time anyone asked you to meet them just to spend time together, without having an actual thing you were both going to do?"

Harry thought about this. "Well, I mean, I'm at Ron and Hermione's a few times a week for one reason or another, and they usually ask me to stay for food, so of course we chat then. And I talk to people at work. And I do go to the Burrow every week for Sunday lunch, and there are always loads of people there to talk to."

"But you don't," Draco pointed out. "So what stops you?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry, after a few moments' consideration. "I do talk. But, now that I think about it, I can't remember the last time talked to just one person for any length of time, other than today. There's always a group – or at least a couple. And I just... I don't know why, but it always feels weird to talk about myself when I'm talking to a couple, or even more so if it's a big group. So it's all just small talk. Which is nice, but not as nice as talking properly one to one."

"I know exactly what you mean," Draco reassured him. "I think it must happen a lot to single people – it certainly does to me. When I'm with a couple – any couple – they always seem to talk about things they do together, and I'm really just an audience member that asks questions from time to time. And If I mention anything I've done, they seem to soon find a way to connect that to their own lives, and then it all starts again. ... That sounds awful, doesn't it? I hadn't really thought about it until just now. It's not that I think they do it on purpose – I think they'd probably be horrified to realise what they're doing. But it still makes it hard to have a meaningful conversation with a couple."

"The worst thing is when every single sentence ends with one of them saying _didn't we?_ to the other one," Harry said.

"Oh, yes. _We went to the theatre, didn't we? We met that famous person, didn't we? We saved the world, didn't we?_ Every. Single. Sentence."

Harry grinned. "Ron and Hermione are really bad at that," he commented. "Well, Ron is. I think Hermione does sometimes realise how silly it is."

"I can imagine," said Draco. "She was always scarily intelligent. I'm pleased to hear they're still together, though. They were so different that I could never understand how it worked, but it obviously did."

"I know. They do argue, but never seriously," Harry said. "I'm fascinated to see how their children turn out. I'm sure it won't be long before they start producing mini-Weasleys."

"But I'm guessing you don't actually know their plans, because you never talk about anything serious when you're with them?" 

Harry laughed. "You know what? You're absolutely right. And it seems ridiculous now that I think about it, because they're my closest friends, so if I can't talk to them then there's no chance with anyone else! I really can't, though. The other day, they came round to drop off a holly wreath for my door, and I was really depressed before they turned up. I was thrilled to see them – they stopped me moping – but for some reason I didn't tell them I was depressed. They launched into a story about how long it took to gather the holly from the garden and how many times they got pricked making up the wreath, and we had a good laugh and they cheered me up... but we never actually talked about anything to do with me."

"Well, you're talking to me right now," Draco pointed out.

"I am, and it's actually really great," Harry said. "Strange that the number of people present should make such a difference to what I say. I'd never really thought about that before. But I'm pretty sure it's not just because you're the only person here, you know. I think it's also because it's _you_ , and I'm finding you very easy to talk to. We have a connection, I think." 

"I agree," said Draco. "We always have had, although until now it wasn't always a positive connection, sadly."

"Well, that's in the past. We're both different people now, and I'm enjoying our new connection very much," Harry told him. "And, cards on the table – I'd be interested in revisiting the groping conversation at some point, if you would too... but at the moment this is enough."

Draco reached for Harry's hand and squeezed it. "I think we're singing from the same hymnsheet," he said. "Which is a phrase that totally baffled me the first time I heard it, by the way. But I know what it means now."

Harry interlocked his fingers with Draco's and smiled at him, not letting go. "Singing!" he exclaimed. "I almost forgot. You were going to tell me more about what sort of things you sing when it's not the Messiah."

"Messiah, not _the_ Messiah," said Draco. Harry looked at him, puzzled.

"Sorry, it's a pet peeve," Draco explained. "Almost everyone calls it _The Messiah_ , but they're wrong – the title of the work is just _Messiah_."

"Oh, I see," said Harry. "Well, I like to get things right, so thank you for telling me that. But, go on... what else do you sing?"

"All sorts of things," said Draco. "Other oratorios, opera arias, Lieder, musical theatre, pop songs... just anything that's good music. I... could sing something for you now, if you like?"

Harry sat up and turned to face him, still holding his hand. "Really? That'd be great! You wouldn't be too embarrassed?"

"I've spent the past four years studying vocal performance," Draco pointed out. "It'd be a bit silly if I got embarrassed when I actually performed, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose so," said Harry. "Then, yes please, I'd love to hear you sing. Do you have anything I might have heard before? You know, so I can compare you to the experts?"

Draco thought for a moment, then nodded. "I think you might have heard this one," he said. "It was very popular among the Muggles in 1990, I understand – something to do with football. You probably heard it when you were younger. Hang on, let me find the backing track." He let go of Harry's hand and started rooting in his bag.

"Backing track?" wondered Harry.

"You'll see," Draco told him. "I could sing it without, but it'll sound better with the backing track." He got his phone out of his pocket and then, from his bag, produced a small black cylindrical object, a bit smaller than the phone.

"Bluetooth speaker," he said, to Harry's quizzical look. "Just watch." He set the speaker down on the bench between them and spent a minute fiddling with his phone. Then Harry gasped as the sound of an orchestra suddenly burst out from the speaker. Draco stood up. 

"Singing works better when you stand," he explained. He stood with his eyes closed for a moment, listening to the strings, and then started to sing. 

" _Nessun dorma... nessun dorma! Tu pure, o Principessa..._ "

Harry was transfixed. Draco had sounded more or less like the Draco he remembered from school, all the time they'd been talking, but now there was this resonant, powerful singing voice, and it felt as if it was tugging directly on Harry's emotions. And he _did_ remember hearing the song all those years ago... but it hadn't affected him much at the time. It did now, though.

" _Il nome suo nessun saprà, e noi dovrem ahimè morir, morir!_ " Draco paused for breath while the backing track added a female choir to its orchestra, and then joined in again, getting louder and higher. Harry was vaguely aware of a small crowd of people gathering around them to listen, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Draco.

" _Vincerò! Vincerò!_ " Draco held the highest note for an unbelievable (to Harry's ears) amount of time, and then finished with a flourish. The onlookers burst into applause, and Harry couldn't help it – as the orchestra played the outro, he stood up and pulled Draco into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Nessun Dorma](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTFUM4Uh_6Y) (Pavarotti version)


	8. Desks and Galleons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one today – Harry's back at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 8: Ministry of Magic toilet

The next morning, Harry was still grinning when he got to the Ministry. Even having to step into the toilet entrance, which he'd always hated despite it not actually being wet, failed to quell his good mood. 

He and Draco hadn't talked after their kiss; they'd stared into each other's eyes for a few moments, both smiling, and reached an unspoken understanding. At least, Harry thought they had; he'd find out soon enough, he supposed, thinking about it now. At the time, he'd just said to Draco "I'll owl you" and then walked away after a final quick postscript-type kiss, leaving Draco to speak to his crowd of admirers. 

Ron was already at his desk when Harry entered their office. "Morning, mate," he said. "How's it going?"

"It's going so, so well," Harry told him, sitting at his desk opposite Ron's. 

Ron looked up sharply and examined Harry's face. "What's happened?" he asked suspiciously. "You always just say 'well, I'm still here'. Why are you smiling?"

"I've met someone," Harry said. "Well, I suppose 're-encountered' would be more accurate, because it's someone we've known for years, but I hadn't seen him since the war."

"Who is it? And when did this happen? Must be someone quite impressive to get you smiling like that. You don't smile very often these days."

"Don't I? ... I suppose I don't. Didn't think you'd noticed, though."

"Well, of course I noticed, you're my best mate. Also I'm married to Hermione, and she's been worried about you for a while."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Has she really? That's interesting. And makes me feel a bit better, actually."

"Doesn't look as if you need any help to do that," Ron commented. "I can't remember the last time I saw you in this good a mood. So come on, who's put that smile on your face?"

Harry grinned even more widely. "Would you believe me if I told you it was Draco Malfoy?"

Ron stared at him for a moment, and then sighed. "Bugger," he said. "I owe Hermione ten Galleons."


	9. Custard and Pianos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron realise how brilliant Hermione is, and Draco receives a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 9: Christmas pudding

Harry laughed. "Don't tell me she predicted this? When?"

"Right after his trial," Ron told him. "When you were standing watching him walk away. She said something like 'that's not the last we've seen of Malfoy – he'll always be a big part of Harry's life – in fact, I can see them as a couple'. I told her she was mad. Actually, now I think back, that was the first time she ever said anything about you being gay. I told her she was mad about that, too."

"But I hadn't realised _myself_ that I was gay then," Harry pointed out. "How could Hermione have known?"

"It's Hermione, mate," said Ron. "I've never been able to work out how she knows what she does, but I love it. Anyway, I was so convinced that she was wrong about this that we argued for ages, and we ended up having a bet. I bet her ten galleons you weren't gay, and another ten galleons that even if you were gay there's no way you'd ever get together with Malfoy. Should've known, when I paid her the first ten galleons, that the second ten would follow eventually."

"Wow," said Harry. "Wait. Are you saying she knew Malfoy was gay too? She hardly even knew him! How could she've known that? I've always known him far better than she did, even when we weren't getting along, and I didn't know that till yesterday!"

Ron shook his head. "Hermione," he said again, somewhat mournfully. They both laughed.

"Anyway, listen," said Harry, making an impulsive decision. "I need to talk to you – well, both of you, I suppose – about something serious. I've kind of wanted to for a while, but the moment never seemed to be quite right. But talking to Draco made me realise that it's kind of important. Not here, though. Are you home tonight?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Draco, is it now? You _are_ moving fast! ... This sounds ominous, though. Should I be worried?"

"No," Harry reassured him. "At least, I don't think so. I just want to... no, wait, it'll be easier if I tell you both together, otherwise I'll just have to say it all twice."

"OK. I'm dying of curiosity now, mind. But tonight should be fine. Actually, it's good timing, because Hermione's promised to cook a Christmas pudding, and it's a bit too big for just the two of us."

"Christmas pudding? But Christmas is still weeks away!"

"I know, but we both really like it, so we thought we'd have a bonus early one. It won't be as good as Mum's, obviously, but I'm looking forward to it."

"Will there be custard?" asked Harry hopefully.

"Hey. It's me," said Ron. "What do _you_ think? Anyway, do you want to come straight home with me from here, or make it later tonight?"

"Straight away sounds good," said Harry. "I might chicken out if I leave it too long. Which reminds me – I need to send an owl. Back in a sec."

*********

Draco was sitting at the piano in a practice room at the Guildhall, distractedly playing a series of chords, when the glowing silver figure of a stag suddenly descended from the ceiling and landed next to the piano. (Draco would later deny that he jumped several inches off the piano stool, but he'd always been good at denial.) 

"Hi Draco," said the stag, in Harry's voice. "I was going to send an owl, but I thought this was safer, because he'd wait until you were alone and an owl wouldn't."

("How the bloody hell do you get a Patronus to do _that_ , you showoff?" muttered Draco to himself.)

"I've been thinking about you all night," the stag continued. "When can I see you again? Er, assuming I've not got the wrong end of the stick, that is, and you actually want to. But it felt really good being with you yesterday, so I hope you feel the same, and I've just realised how stupid I feel saying this to a magical stag, so please just tell me when I can talk to you face to face. I'm going to see Ron and Hermione tonight – and you'll be pleased to hear that I plan to talk to them properly – but I could visit you later in the evening? Unless you're a morning person? But I don't think you are. Or are you? I don't really know. I'm not, in any case, if you're wondering. So later is fine. Or you could visit me if you prefer? Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place – I think you know the house? Or I could come to yours, like I said, but I don't actually know whether you're still at the Manor, and actually now I think about it that might feel weird given what happened the last time I was there, and OH MY GOD I need to stop babbling. Let me know please? Owl or Patronus is fine, I won't be near Muggles all day, probably. Can't wait to see you. Please?"

The stag vanished, and Draco, whose face had been spreading into a wider and wider grin throughout this monologue, burst out laughing. He was still laughing a minute later when the stag reappeared.

"I almost forgot," said Harry's voice, even more breathlessly than before. "I wanted to tell you that I absolutely loved that song you sang to me, and I really want to hear you sing some more. But what I've been thinking about all night is kissing you again. So if you _haven't_ been thinking about that, please will you tell me straight away, so I don't get my hopes up? Anyway, got to go. Bye."

The stag vanished again, and Draco smiled to himself as he reached for his wand and conjured his own Patronus, which was a large bird. "Go to Harry Potter, and tell him this: Come to Peacock Cottage, in the grounds of Malfoy Manor. I'll add you to the wards so you can Apparate in. As late as you like," he said. "And, Harry – I've been thinking about that all night too."


	10. Brandy and Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the Golden Trio have a proper conversation... and there's a surprise from Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 10: icy window

Harry scooped up the last remnants of custard and licked them off his spoon, cursing himself inwardly while gazing at the window next to him; it was covered in intricate icy patterns that Harry had been admiring while eating his pudding

He'd come with every intention of having a proper conversation, but Hermione had sent him to the shop for brandy as soon as he'd arrived (Ron had apparently insisted that Christmas pudding wasn't Christmas pudding unless it had brandy poured over it and set on fire, and Harry had to agree), and when he'd returned the conversation had fallen back to the usual what-happened-at-work-today nothingness. Harry hadn't actually spoken for the last fifteen minutes or so, just uttered noises of agreement where required as his two best friends bickered good-naturedly over who had worked harder.

Draco's face came into Harry's mind – not for the first time that day, but this time he was rolling his eyes rather than looking slightly flushed after Harry's kiss ( _that_ image seemed to have been seared into Harry's eyelids). Harry decided to reclaim his inner hero.

"Did you know," he said, slightly more loudly than strictly necessary, "that I told Draco yesterday that I have no-one to talk to?"

Ron stopped mid-sentence, and he and Hermione both stared at Harry. "What d'you mean? What d'you think's happening right now? You talk to us all the time!"

"Actually," said Hermione thoughtfully, "he's _with_ us all the time, but he doesn't actually talk a lot, now I come to think of it. Why is that, Harry?"

"I'm sure you can probably work it out if you try. You seem to have worked out everything else about me," Harry said. "No, wait, that sounds as if I'm bitter, and I'm not, really. I'm just... a bit fed up."

"You weren't fed up this morning," Ron pointed out. "You were happier than I'd seen you in years."

"And I still am," Harry reassured him. "But one reason for that is that I had a long talk with Draco yesterday, and he helped me to realise that I never get to do that with anyone else these days. I'm often _in_ a conversation, but it's usually as a listener. For example... can you remember what the last thing I said tonight was, before I interrupted you to mention Draco?"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other for a minute, both their foreheads wrinkled in thought. "Oh my God," said Hermione. "I don't think you said anything after 'here's your brandy'... Did we really serve and eat a whole Christmas pudding without you speaking at all? Why didn't you shut us up?"

"Well, I do like listening to you two chat," Harry said. "It's very reassuring and relaxing. But it was only when I was talking to Draco that I realised I'd fallen into the habit of not making an effort to speak about myself, and it was kind of nice when I had a chance to do that. And I was talking to him about something that's been on my mind for ages, and he was surprised when he found out I hadn't talked to anyone else about it. So I decided I would. Hence me inviting myself tonight."

"You know you're always welcome here anytime, Harry; you don't have to officially invite yourself," said Hermione. "But I'm sorry we've stopped you speaking. I think it's maybe that Ron and I talk to each other so much that it's a nice change to have a different audience, so when we get you to ourselves we do rabbit on, don't we, Ron?"

Harry snorted, and Hermione looked slightly guilty. "And I've just realised how often I say that," she confessed. "Harry, I'm so sorry. We will try to do better. But do please whack us on the head if we don't manage it. And, more importantly, I am keen to hear the whole story of your encounter with Malfoy – from what Ron's told me, it's a bit of a big deal – but first please do tell us what's been on your mind."

"It's work, isn't it?" asked Ron. Harry looked at him, surprised.

"I know I'm an insensitive prat when it comes to letting you talk," said Ron, "but I'm quite observant. And I know you hate it."

Harry let out a relieved sigh. "I do," he admitted. "I really, really do. But I've been trying not to think about it, because... well, what else is there for me to do? And we're partners, so if I quit it'd have an impact on you too, which is why I kept wanting to talk to you about it, but it was too difficult to contemplate, so I kept putting it off and hoping things would just get better."

Hermione shook her head. "We are all such idiots," she said. 

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm not convinced you could ever include yourself in that description," he said. "I'm certainly prepared to believe it about myself, though."

"We _are_ all idiots," Hermione reiterated. "You know why? Ron hates his job too. He and I have talked about it several times, but we didn't want to make any hasty decisions because Ron quitting would affect you too, and Ron kept saying that things might get better. _Ron_ is an idiot because he apparently knew you hated being an Auror but _never mentioned that to me_. _I_ am an idiot for never insisting that we should at least discuss it with you, and I am even _more_ of an idiot for not realising that you felt you couldn't talk to us any more. _You_ , my beloved Chosen One, although you're an idiot for not shutting us up, are actually the least idiotic of the three of us. For once. So, if we have Draco Malfoy to thank for indirectly bringing this situation out into the open, then I for one am very grateful to him, and I will tell him so when I next see him. Which had better be _soon_ , by the way, Harry."

Harry gaped at her, and then laughed. "Hopefully that can be arranged," he agreed. "But... Ron, are you saying you want to quit?"

"Merlin, yes," said Ron fervently. "If it had just been that total waste of time on Saturday night, or the fact that we've spent all day today filling in paperwork _about_ that total waste of time on Saturday night, it'd be bad enough. But both those things happen every week, and I'm wondering how much longer I can stand it."

"Preaching to the choir here, mate," Harry told him. "Which reminds me, you are going to _love_ the story of what Draco's doing these days. But... have you thought about what you'd do if you did quit?"

"That's the easy bit," Ron said. "George has been mentioning for ages that he'd love it if he had a partner in the shop, and I do enjoy it when I go in there to help him out. I think it might work really well if I did that full-time. I haven't talked to him about it, but maybe now I will"

"We have _got_ to get better at this talking thing," Hermione commented. "What about you, Harry? Any ideas?"

"No, actually," said Harry despondently. "I've been so obsessed with how miserable I've been that I've never thought about what the next step would be."

"In that case, I definitely know the answer," said Hermione. "The next step needs to be that you take a break. It's not like you need the money desperately. But I can see now that you _do_ really need to recharge your batteries, and get back to being your old self, before you decide what you want to do. Maybe with Malfoy's help... don't think I haven't noticed the way your face lights up when his name is mentioned!"

Harry smiled, and was about to answer when a large silver bird floated through the ice-covered window behind Ron's head. The bird landed on the table in front of Harry.

"Sorry to interrupt, Harry," Draco's voice said. "I know you said you'd be quite late, but I just wanted to warn you that I won't be home until about nine thirty – I didn't think my accompanist was free tonight, but she is, so we're having a quick rehearsal. So don't turn up before nine thirty, but any time after that is fine. Looking forward to seeing you."

The bird evaporated, and Ron and Hermione both turned back to stare at Harry. 

"Mate!" said Ron. "You didn't tell me Malfoy's Patronus was a bloody _phoenix_!"

"Is that what it is?" asked Harry. "I saw it yesterday, but I only really registered that it was a big bird. Should've recognised a phoenix, I suppose. Bit harder to spot when it's all white, in my defence, though."

"This... is quite a big deal, Harry," Hermione said. "You know how rare it is to be able to produce a corporeal Patronus at all, but for it to be a phoenix... I only know one other person whose Patronus was a phoenix."

"Who's that?" wondered Harry.

"It was you who told me, don't you remember?" said Hermione. "Albus Dumbledore."


	11. Games and Recitals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will be short, because the deadline is in half an hour... I got distracted by having to explain to someone about the Soulmate Goose of Enforcement and ice hockey players being unexpectedly transformed into hedgehogs... Let's see if we can move Draco and Harry on a bit though!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 11: snowy restaurant

At ten o'clock that night, Draco was lounging on his sofa, cursing his phone.

"Bugger! So close! No, I will _not_ pay for extra time," he told the offending game. "Stupid thing. Why do I always only see the damn object just when the time's about to run out?" He sighed and started searching the observatory again. 

He'd just found the last object – "Abacus! There you are!" when there was a disturbance in the air and Harry landed, stumbling, in the middle of the room. Draco leapt up to steady him.

"Thanks," said Harry. "And, hello." He took Draco's face gently into his hands and kissed him.

Draco grabbed Harry's shoulders and deepened the kiss, leaving them both slightly breathless. "It's good to see you," he said. "Have you had a good evening?"

"Yes, really good, actually," said Harry. "Although this is the part I've been most looking forward to."

"Me too," Draco told him. "Have you eaten? Or can I get you a drink?"

"I'm fine, thanks," said Harry. "Bit of a weird night for food, in fact. Hermione had promised to do a Christmas pudding, and she was so focused on that that she forgot to cook the rest of the meal, so we ended up having pudding first and then going out to a restaurant for the main course after that. I'm totally full. Anyway, how did your rehearsal go? And what are you rehearsing for? I meant to ask you when you're next performing. I want to come and watch."

"I have a recital on Friday at college," Draco told him. "A half-hour mixed programme. It'll be assessed as part of my course."

"Ooh, that sounds like something I want to see," said Harry. "Is it OK if I come?"

"That would be amazing," said Draco. "Actually, some of the songs I'll be singing make me think of you. I've been picturing you when I've been learning them – even before this weekend. It'll be a big help to have you actually there."

"Then I'll definitely be there," Harry promised. "Can I bring Hermione and Ron, too? I think they'd like to see it. I've been telling them all about you tonight. They're very impressed with your Patronus, by the way. And so was I, once they explained to me what a big deal it is."

"There's a story behind that," said Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game Draco is playing is Seekers Notes: Hidden Mystery, and I entirely blame Alisanne for getting me as addicted to it as she is!


	12. Edward Elgar and David Bowie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patronus origin story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 12: golden Christmas tree

"Go on," said Harry, sinking onto the sofa and pulling Draco with him. The room was glowing, he noticed; the only light was coming from the fireplace and the decorations on a surprisingly-gaudy Christmas tree in front of it.

"I never used to be able to do a Patronus," Draco said. "I tried and tried when I was at school, but I could never even get any smoke to appear."

"It's a really difficult charm," Harry reminded him. "Lots of people can't do one, even people with happier memories than yours probably were."

Draco snorted. "Says the guy who could do one as a teenager despite his parents having been killed by the Dark Lord," he pointed out. 

"Sorry," said Harry. "That was a bit patronising, wasn't it? Ignore me. When did you finally manage it, then?"

"Well, don't laugh, but it was a couple of years ago. The first time I sang karaoke."

Harry stared at him. "Karaoke."

Draco laughed. "I know, right? But it's true. See, when I started my course, I was really nervous. I was fascinated with everything I was learning, and I practised nonstop, but I was terrified at the thought of actually singing in front of anyone. I've no idea how I managed to get in in the first place, I was so shaky in my audition."

"Presumably they could see you had potential," Harry commented.

Draco nodded. "Maybe, but even that's a bit unusual," he said. "By the time you're at music college entry level, you're expected to be a pretty high standard already. Anyway, whatever the reason, they did let me in, and my life started to improve from that point. The more I sang, the more I felt better about myself. And the course made us all perform regularly – just small events at first, but the amount of time on stage gradually increased. Then, at the end of my second year, I got the chance to sing Gerontius."

"Gerontius?"

"It's one of the great tenor roles," Draco told him. "The Dream of Gerontius is a huge piece by an English composer called Edward Elgar, about an old man who dies. The first part is about his thoughts when he's about to die, and the second part is what happens to him after death, when he's in heaven."

"That sounds... pretty epic," Harry said. 

"Oh, it is," said Draco. "It's pretty long – lasts for a couple of hours – and choirs and orchestras love doing it. But the solo parts are amazing, and Gerontius himself is a tenor. His part is _really_ difficult to sing, so I was incredibly honoured to be asked to do it."

"I wish I'd heard it," said Harry, squeezing his hand.

"Well, I'd love to do it again one day, and I hope I get the chance," Draco said. "But that night was one of the best nights of my life, and afterwards I went to the pub with a load of the other singers from my year, and we ended up doing karaoke."

"I can't even begin to guess what song you sang," said Harry.

"David Bowie," Draco told him. "I'd recently discovered him, and was obsessed with his music – I still am – and that night I sang _Ashes to Ashes_. It's been one of my favourites ever since I heard it. And when I got home I realised was just so happy, and it occurred to me that I might even be able to do a Patronus at last. And I was thinking about Gerontius after his death, and ashes, and I can't help assuming that that's why it ended up being a phoenix. I know about the Dumbledore thing, of course, but I don't think mine has anything to do with me being amazingly powerful."

"Maybe it's a bit of both," Harry suggested. "You never know. Maybe it's also that a phoenix can sing? But in any case I'm glad you were finally happy enough to do a Patronus. Is that night still your happiest memory?"

"It was... until yesterday," Draco confessed. 

Harry smiled. "Then let's see if we can make an even happier one," he said.


	13. Takeaways and Colleges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's confused about where he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 13: ho-ho-ho biscuits

Draco smiled. "I like the sound of that," he said. "Can we start in the kitchen, though? I've got some biscuits in the oven, and I don't want to forget about them. They should be done soon."

"Lead the way," said Harry, standing up and pulling Draco with him. "Also: you cook? When did _that_ happen?"

Draco took Harry's hand and led him to the kitchen, which turned out to be at the end of a small hallway. "Didn't have much choice, when I moved in here," he said as they walked. "Luckily I discovered Muggle takeaways at the same time, otherwise I might have starved. My attempts at cooking did _not_ go well at first. But eventually I realised it wasn't all that different from brewing potions, and I've always been good at that. These days... well, I don't cook every night, but when I do it's usually OK."

"Biscuits are fiddly, though," Harry pointed out, sitting down at the kitchen table while Draco looked inside the oven. "I'm a pretty good cook, but I've had biscuit disasters in the past."

"I know. And these are _extra_ fiddly, because I had the bright idea of making them say _ho ho ho_ ," Draco told him, closing the oven door and sitting down. "I don't recommend it. But there's a thing on at college tomorrow and we're all supposed to bring something."

"Is it a big college?" asked Harry. 

"Not huge in terms of numbers, but it's the best music college in London," said Draco. "I think there are only about 900 students, but some of those are drama students. Mostly it's music students, though – about 700, I think. The Royal College of Music and the Royal Academy of Music are both slightly bigger, but not quite as good."

"I look forward to seeing it," said Harry. "Is that where your recital is?"

"It is," said Draco. "You don't have to come, by the way, if you were just being polite."

"No, I really want to," Harry told him. "I'll definitely be there. This kitchen is impressively equipped, by the way. I take it you don't have any house-elves? And why are you here rather than in the Manor?"

"No house-elves. And as for the Manor, look out of the window."

"You do realise it's dark outside, right?" said Harry, but he got up obediently anyway and went over to the window, where he found that the gibbous moon was illuminating the grounds quite well. "Wait. Which way is the Manor?"

"Come with me," said Draco, and opened the back door. Harry followed him outside, and then around the entire outside of the house, before they got back to their starting point.

"So," said Harry as they sat back down at the kitchen table, "the Manor seems to have disappeared."

"In a manner of speaking," said Draco. "I had it demolished."


	14. Slytherins and Shops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry manages to offend Draco, but Draco can stand up for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 14: glittery bells

"Wait. What?" said Harry. "Demolished? How come?"

"Another of the conditions from my trial," Draco told him. "I was given the choice of either selling it or demolishing it. I wasn't comfortable with the idea of anyone else living in it, and when I realised that, I also realised that it just had too many awful memories. So demolishing it was an easy decision. Especially when I clarified that they weren't going to take the grounds away from us, just the Manor itself. And this cottage is quite pleasant, so it made sense for me to move in here."

"Isn't it a bit lonely, though?" wondered Harry. "And, does your mother live here too?"

"No, she moved to our villa in Italy, and I asked her to take all the house-elves with her," said Draco. "They were quite upset at the loss of the Manor, and I thought they'd be happier in a bigger house. And I wasn't sure whether Mother would be able to cope without them, whereas I thought I'd probably be OK."

"But do you go and visit her? Or anyone else? Or do they ever come here?" pressed Harry. "It seems... I don't know, it makes my heart ache a little bit to think of you all on your own on this massive estate."

Draco smiled softly. "That's sweet of you to say," he said. "I'm fine, though. Mother does come to stay every once in a while – she was here last week, in fact. It was her that brought the Christmas tree and put all the decorations up."

"Ah, I was wondering about those glittery bells on the door," Harry said. "They don't seem very you. But do you get any other visitors?"

Draco regarded him. "Not really," he said. "Why are you so bothered about this? I've been OK on my own. And it's not as if I never see people – remember I go to a college where there are 900 people, and I do talk to some of them."

"But you don't bring them here."

"It's easier not to. This is really the only place I can do magic, and if I brought Muggles here I'd have to concentrate to avoid any slip-ups."

"That makes sense," Harry admitted. "But I can't help noticing you haven't mentioned any wizarding friends. What happened to all of them? Zabini, and Parkinson, and... I'm really sorry, I can't remember which of Crabbe and Goyle it was who died."

"It was Crabbe," said Draco tersely. "It would have been me, too, if you hadn't swooped in to save me. For which, thank you again, by the way."

"Draco, you need to stop thanking me for things that you've already thanked me for," Harry advised. "Especially as most of them are things I would've done for anyone."

"That doesn't make me any less grateful," Draco pointed out. "But, in answer to your question, I'm not sure where they all are, but I do know that none of the other Slytherins from our year are still in the UK. They all moved abroad straight after the trials – said it was easier than having to deal with being shunned. I haven't seen any of them since the day of the verdicts."

"Hmm," said Harry. "How has that been for you, by the way? When you've gone out in the wizard world?"

"I... have to confess that I haven't tried that yet," said Draco.

"What?! In four years?!" cried Harry. "Don't you miss it?"

Draco thought about this. "Yes and no," he said. "I _would_ like to wander down Diagon Alley and be able to browse in the shops, but actually the old me never used to do that, so I don't have any memories of what I'm imagining. I did used to go to Diagon Alley, of course, but it was almost always with one or both of my parents, and they (well, my father mainly) disapproved of me wandering off or chatting to people, so I never did... and if I was ever there on my own, that behaviour was too ingrained, so I always just used to go straight to the relevant shop, get what I'd come for, and go straight home."

Harry digested this while Draco took the biscuits out of the oven and put them on the worktop to cool. "I want to fix this," he announced, after a minute. "I want to take you shopping and glare at anyone who looks at you even slightly the wrong way."

Draco frowned as he sat back down at the kitchen table. "That's very sweet, again," he said slowly, "but I'm getting the impression that you see me as some sort of feeble victim. And, although I may have been like that in the past, I've changed – a _lot_ – and I'm quite independent these days. And I have to say I'm a bit disappointed you don't see that."

Harry looked at him, aghast, and replayed the conversation in his mind. "You're absolutely right," he said, when he'd done so. "I'm an idiot, and I'm so sorry. Of course I can see you've changed – I doubt I'd be here right now if you hadn't. But I guess now you can see why I'm single. I always seem to do this – every time I make a connection with someone, I say something stupid and they run away."

"Well, I'm not going to give up on you _that_ easily," Draco promised. "But if this – whatever it is – is going to work between us, you're going to need to rein in your Saviour tendencies, I think. Now, why don't we go back to the sofa and you can tell me about your disastrous love life?"


	15. Handprints and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a chequered past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 15: candy canes

Harry was silent as he followed Draco back to the living room, figuring that this was probably the safest course of action in the circumstances; he used the time to take a good look at Draco. He was wearing what appeared to be the same faded jeans from the previous day, but this time with a black T-shirt bearing the words "Runner 5, Abel Township" and what looked like bloody handprints; on top of this was an unbuttoned red shirt. His collar-length hair caught the light from the Christmas tree as they entered the room, and Harry was fascinated by how beautiful it looked. 

Draco sat on the sofa and pulled Harry down next to him; he reached for a small jar of candy canes that was on the coffee table, and extracted one, which he stuck in the corner of his mouth. "I'd offer you one, but it'd stop you talking properly, and I want to hear this story," he said.

Harry sighed. "Not much of a story to tell, I'm afraid," he said. "I tried to make things work with Ginny after the war, but we realised quite quickly that it wasn't meant to be. She's with Dean Thomas now. After that, there was no-one for the next year or so, but then I ended up snogging a guy at an Auror get-together, and..."

"I'm going to stop you right there," said Draco, taking the candy cane out of his mouth for a moment. "You seem to have missed out a large part of the story."

"Well, not as much as you'd think," Harry told him. "It was when we went up to the Manchester office, and I got talking to one of the guys from there, and we had a bit to drink, and he kissed me, and I was startled at first, but then I realised I liked it. I was with him for a couple of months after that, and learned lots of surprising things about myself." 

"And, based on your earlier comment, I take it he ended it rather than you?"

"Well, sort of," said Harry. "He never actually _said_ it was over. He just stopped responding to any attempt I made to contact him. I haven't seen or heard from him in nearly three years."

"Ouch," said Draco. 

"Yeah. It was... not pleasant, and I was distraught for a while. But when I calmed down a bit I realised that he had never felt like _the one_ , but I'm grateful for him for all the things he taught me."

"But what did you say that caused him to break off contact?"

"That's the thing – I can't even remember! But no doubt it was something spectacularly insensitive. Anyway, the main thing that _did_ come out of that relationship was that I knew I was definitely gay – it had never occurred to me before, but things just felt right in a way that they never did with Ginny."

Draco nodded. "OK. So what happened next?"

"Two more relationships between then and now – both lasting just a couple of months – and one one-night stand, which was fun at the time but made me realise that those are not for me. I've been single since... well, since my birthday, actually. Apparently I didn't say the right things when I opened his present, and we ended up having a blazing row at the party. It was not pretty."

"It sounds awful... but I have to admit I kind of wish I'd seen it," said Draco.

Harry laughed. "Yes, my life is a soap opera at times," he said.


	16. Wanks and Jeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco turns up the heat (and the rating!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 16: sequined heart

Draco leaned back on the sofa and gesticulated with his candy cane. "OK, so you've been partnerless since the end of July... what? Everyone knows when your birthday is!" 

Harry hadn't realised he'd reacted at all, but he inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"So... I assume you wank a lot?" Draco went on, putting the candy cane back in his mouth and sucking on it intently.

Harry stared at this for a second before registering that he was expected to reply. He flushed. "Actually I do," he said firmly. "But not usually as much as I did last night."

Draco grinned. "Is that right?" he said. "How many times? And were you in bed, or in the shower?"

"The first time was as soon as I got home, so I was leaning against the inside of the front door," said Harry. "I couldn't wait a minute longer. It was a bit explosive. Then I had to have a shower because I had come all over me, and I ended up wanking again while I was in there. That one lasted a lot longer before I came."

"Even so, that's a pretty impressive refractory period," Draco commented. 

"It's not usually _that_ short. Last night was a special case," Harry said. "And, just to warn you, if you keep sucking on that bloody thing like that, I'll be demonstrating my impressive refractory period sooner than you might like."

Draco's grin widened, but he didn't remove the candy cane. "Warning noted," he said. "So, did you stop after two wanks last night, or...?"

"You know bloody well I didn't," Harry semi-growled. "There was another one in the kitchen while I was waiting for the kettle to boil. After that, I was a bit sore, but I still ended up having a nice long one when I went to bed."

"Four times. Not bad."

"That was just last night," Harry clarified. "We should probably also count the one in the shower this morning. And the one in the toilets at work this lunchtime."

Draco's eyes were dancing. "You must be _really_ sore by now," he said lightly. "You managed to restrain yourself while you were at Weasley's, I hope?"

"Only because they would've known what I was doing," said Harry. He stood up and waited to see if Draco joined him, wanting to be totally sure that Draco was consenting.

Draco got up languidly and threw the remnants of the candy cane in the bin as he came and stood in front of Harry. "And how are you feeling now?" he murmured, clasping his hands lightly around Harry's neck. "Sore? Or ready for more?"

"Both," said Harry, and kissed him; tentatively at first, but then more deeply when it was clear that Draco was as enthusiastic as he was. He wrapped his arms tightly around Draco as they kissed, and after that neither of them could apparently stand still; they collided with the Christmas tree, knocking several of the decorations to the ground. Harry heard a crunch as he stood on a sequined plastic heart, and guided Draco back down to the sofa, still not breaking contact with his mouth.

Several minutes later, by which point they both had their hands inside each other's jeans, Draco pulled his head back slightly. "Not that I'm not enjoying this very much indeed," he said huskily, "but it'd be much more comfortable in a bed. Shall we?"

Harry stood up quickly, tripped over his jeans as they fell halfway down his legs, stared at them for a moment, then took them off entirely. Then he shrugged to himself and removed the rest of his clothes. "Lead the way," he said.


	17. Pianists and Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry visits Draco's college. Very short one today as my computer is being unhelpful, sorry. Tomorrow's will make up for it. (Sorry too if you were expecting a sex scene, but I'm terrible at those so decided it would work best offscreen!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 17: posh foyer with many decorations (NB it's decades since I was last inside the Guildhall so I can't remember whether it has a foyer like this... but it might!)

At noon the next day, Harry was waiting for Draco in the Guildhall foyer. The foyer had been decorated to within an inch of its life; Harry couldn't see any part of it that wasn't covered in tinsel or glitter, and the glare was starting to make his eyes hurt a little.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait too long before Draco appeared, along with a young Asian woman who was carrying several books of music.

"Harry, this is Rabia," said Draco, giving Harry a quick peck on the lips as he gestured towards his companion. "She's my accompanist, and you're about to see how brilliant she is. There's nothing she can't do on a piano."

"No pressure there, then," said Rabia, her eyes sparkling. "Hi Harry, it's lovely to meet you. Draco's told me all about you, and I have to say I'm intrigued."

"I'm relieved that at least he hasn't had time to tell you _everything_ in the last four days," said Harry, laughing as he shook her hand. "But it's lovely to meet you too." 

"Last four days?" said Rabia. "Draco's been talking about you ever since I met him... three years ago."


	18. Wars and Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short again, sorry - I really wanted to write more tonight, but the letters TYUIO on my computer keyboard have all stopped working, so writing any word with any of those letters (ie ANY WORD) takes a very long time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 18: candles

Harry looked at Draco, surprised. “You... were talking about me before we reconnected?” he asked. “How come?”

“I already told you,” said Draco. “Some of the songs I sing make me think of you. I must have mentioned that to Rabia.”

“Yes, you did,” said Rabia, “but it was more than just that. I think it was when we first did _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables_ that you told us about him, but you were quite mysterious about exactly why that song reminds you of him. I mean, it’s not as if you’ve been in a war, is it? But when we tried to get you to explain, you didn’t, but you did tell us a few things about him.”

“Oh, really?” said Harry, intrigued. “Like what?”

“You went to school together but didn’t really get on - that was the gist,” Rabia said. “Oh, and he says he broke your nose in one of your fights, but that seems unlikely.”

“No, that’s totally true,” Harry told her. “And in a different fight I slashed him open and he almost bled to death.”

Draco looked at him, and they both smiled faintly. “We were actually talking about those fights last night in bed,” he said. “We’d lit a load of candles, and it seemed to prompt us to talk about the past. We apologised to each other. It’s sorted now.”

Rabia stared at them, then shook her head. “Doesn’t sound like the most romantic conversation ever, but OK,” she said. “It’s all very weird, but it seems to work for you, if the way you look at each other is anything to go by. And I definitely want to hear more about how you’ve found each other again and apparently don’t hate each other any more. Draco gave me bullet points but I need more details! But that’ll have to wait, as our practice room slot starts in a minute and I don’t want to waste any of it. Come on!”

She set off at high speed towards the stairs, and Harry and Draco looked at each other before following her.


	19. Revolutions and Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco talks about a life-changing song. 
> 
> Note: the original London production of _Les Misérables_ ran at the Palace Theatre from 1985 to 2004; this story is set in 2002, so it was there then. Coincidentally, this theatre is currently the home of _Harry Potter and the Cursed Child_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 19: yule log

"So, tell me about the tables song," said Harry to Draco as they walked. 

"It's from a show called _Les Misérables_ ," said Draco.

"Oh, I've heard of that!" exclaimed Harry. "It's on at that theatre in the West End, isn't it? You know the one I mean. There's a big sign outside."

"That's the one," agreed Draco. "I should take you to see the show sometime – I think you'd really like it. It's very powerful and all the songs are amazing."

"I'd like that," said Harry.

"Anyway, _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables_ is from quite near the end," Draco continued. "The show is set during the French Revolution – well, _one_ of the French revolutions – and this song is sung by Marius, the hero, who's thinking about all his friends who've died during the fighting."

"Oh, I see," said Harry. "Wait, no I don't. You said it reminds you of me? I'm a bit vague on why that is."

"It didn't at first," said Draco, steering Harry round a corner; Harry realised that Rabia had vanished, but obviously Draco knew where she was heading. "The first time I heard it, it made me think of all the people _I_ know who died in the war. I found it really moving; that's why I wanted to sing it. But the first time I sang it, I realised it wasn't quite right – if the song's taken out of the context of the show, the lyrics don't make it clear that it's the hero that's singing it, but I knew it was supposed to be. So then I started thinking about how you lost far more people close to you than I did, and that – unlike Death Eaters – your people didn't deserve to die. It had never really occurred to me before how much pain you must have gone through. Are probably still going through, in fact. But since then I've never thought of you in the same way as I once did. In fact, I think singing that song is what really started to change me."

Harry found that his eyes had filled with tears. "Hang on a sec," he said roughly, and stopped to steady himself. He leant his head back against a wall, noticing (somewhat incongruously) that this corridor was almost as decorated as the foyer had been: there was not quite as much glitter, but there were various sprigs of holly and paper chains, and even a small yule log in one of the window alcoves.

Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders, searching his face, and then pulled him in for a hug. "Sorry to bring those memories up," he murmured into Harry's ear. "It was cathartic talking about the war last night, but now it occurs to me that we didn't talk about the people we've both lost. And I know you well enough, I think, to understand that you would be much more upset by them than by anything that happened to you."

Harry gave him a watery smile. "You _do_ know me, then," he said. "Actually, in an odd way, that fact cheers me up a bit."

"Well, that's good to hear," said Draco. "Because we really need to get a move on. Rabia will be unimpressed at having to wait for us. And I'm looking forward to trying out my recital programme on you. Especially _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables_ – I can't usually sing it without getting a tear in my eye, so I dread to think what I'll be like with you in front of me. That's why I wanted to try it out on you when there's no other audience."

"I can't wait," said Harry, wiping his eyes. "Come on, I'm OK. Where are we going?"

"Just down here," said Draco, leading him round another corner to a row of identical doors. He opened the first one on the left and ushered Harry in, closing the door behind them.

"About time," said Rabia, who was sitting at a grand piano that took up most of the small room; the only other furniture was the piano stool and a couple of chairs. "Do you need to warm up, Draco? And are we doing this in recital order?"

Draco made a very strange noise that sounded like a "brrrr" but went up and down in pitch for ten seconds or so. "That'll do for a warmup," he said. "I've been singing all morning. And, yes, recital order, please. I want to try out the whole programme on Harry."

"No problem," said Rabia. " _E lucevan le stelle_ coming up."

She started to play a very melancholy melody in a minor key, and Harry grabbed one of the chairs and sat down to watch.


	20. Horses and Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 20: Gringotts bank
> 
> [Ian Bostridge singing Erlkönig by Schubert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmx4MN3xZpM)

Half an hour later, Harry was still staring open-mouthed as Draco finished his last song (which, like all the others, wasn't one Harry had heard before: it had unusual words, but they were at least in English) and bowed his head as Rabia played the outro on the piano.

After the last chord faded away, nobody moved; Draco stood there with his head still bowed, Rabia still had her hands on the keys, and Harry didn't dare break the spell Draco had cast. (He almost laughed at the thought that maybe Draco _had_ actually cast a real spell somehow, but he was fairly confident that it was just really good singing that had created the atmosphere in the room.) Then, after at least a minute, Draco finally raised his head, turned and grinned at Rabia, then looked expectantly at Harry.

"Well? What did you think?"

Harry scrambled up from his chair, on which he'd been sitting backwards so he could rest his chin on his arms. He engulfed Draco in a tight hug and kissed him, before going over to the piano to shake Rabia's hand.

"That was _amazing_ ," he said to Draco. "All of it. I couldn't look away – you were totally brilliant. And it wasn't what I was expecting at all – I presumed it would all be opera stuff like that one you sang in the park, but there was lots of different stuff. And I loved _all_ of it. And you were amazing too, Rabia. I don't know how your fingers managed to move that fast. It was like magic!" At that, he glanced at Draco, who shook his head imperceptibly, smiling.

"Well, thank you," said Rabia. "Draco's a joy to play for – he's the best singer in the college – but I could've cursed him when he told me he was doing _Erlkönig_. That one's a real beast to play. Luckily everything else was fairly straightforward for me, though, so I could concentrate on the Schubert."

" _Erlkönig_ is the reason I wanted Rabia as my accompanist," Draco said. "She's the best, and I didn't think any of the others would be up to that one."

"Which one was that?" asked Harry. "Oh, wait – _Erlkönig_ sounds German, and you only sang one in German, didn't you? That was the last but one song. With all the notes."

"I'm impressed, Potter," said Draco. "I didn't realise you were a language expert. Which other languages do you speak?"

"Oh, none apart from English, really, other than a few words in a few others," said Harry. "But I'm quite good at recognising what some of them sound like. Hermione's been learning a few different languages on some app on her phone, so I keep hearing bits here and there."

"Ah, Duolingo, probably," said Draco. "I use that too. it's really useful. But, yes, I only did one song in German, you're correct. _Erlkönig_ means Elf King – well, not exactly, but that's the usual English translation. It's a brilliant song, but it's incredibly difficult for both the singer and the pianist."

"Elf King," said Harry thoughtfully. "Huh. I wouldn't have guessed that. I couldn't understand most of the words, but I got the impression you were playing several different characters. And did one of them die at the end?"

Draco grinned widely, and Rabia high-fived him. "He was," she said, "and it just shows how good Draco is, that you realised all that without knowing any of the words. There's a narrator – that's the first character – and he tells the story of a young boy being carried at night on horseback by his father – two more characters. The boy sees things his father can't see – that's the Elf King – and at the end the father realises that his son is dead."

"And there's a fifth character," Draco added. "Rabia gets to be the horse."

Rabia laughed. "Yes, those hoofbeats are a killer," she said. "My arms are still aching."

"But all the other songs were brilliant too," said Harry. "Was the choice entirely up to you, or were some of them compulsory?"

"There were certain musical genres that had to be included, but apart from that it was a free choice," Draco said. "Actually, choosing which songs to do was almost as hard as singing them. But I must say I really enjoyed the decision process."

"That's another thing that makes Draco stand out from the others," Rabia said. "You're coming to the recital on Friday, aren't you, Harry? You'll see the difference then. There are six final year students doing this recital on Friday, and they all had the same instructions: a 30-minute programme to include examples of opera, oratorio, mass or requiem, lieder, musical theatre, and pop. But I've seen what the others are doing, and Draco's programme is just so much more imaginative. The rest are focusing on being vocally impressive – there's a lot of belting – whereas Draco has gone for songs with emotional content, and the result is more impressive than any of them manage."

"Stop, you're making me blush," protested Draco, although Harry noticed that he looked delighted. "I just thought I may as well make the most of my long experience of being a drama queen."

"Well, it works, however you've done it," said Rabia. "Now, I'd love to sit and chat, but I've got a euphonium player coming for a run-through in a minute, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to throw you out. Harry, I’ll see you on Friday – please make sure you sit near the front so that Draco sings like he did today. Draco, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah? I’m going to want to talk ALL about Harry now I can put a face to the name.”

“You’re incorrigible, but I love you,” Draco told her. “Thanks so much for today.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek; Harry copied him, and then followed him out of the room. 

“I need to get back to the office, sorry,” said Harry, as they got back to the foyer of the college. “But I’ll see you tonight, OK? Shall I come to yours again, or do you want to come to Grimmauld Place?”

“I’d quite like to see what it looks like these days,” Draco mused. “I haven’t been there since I was a small child. OK, what time?”

“Um, let’s see - I have a security meeting at Gringotts at four o’clock, but those don’t usually take long, so I should be home by six. Oh no! Wait, I forgot.”

“You’re not free?” asked Draco, looking crestfallen. 

“I’m not _not_ free,” said Harry. “But I’m babysitting. How would you feel about meeting your cousin?”


	21. Dinosaurs and Poo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short one today as I have the lurgy. Draco meets Teddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 21: fairy lights
> 
> [The Dinosaur That Pooped A Planet!](https://www.amazon.co.uk/Dinosaur-That-Pooped-Planet/dp/184941808X) is a real book, written by the lovely Tom Fletcher and Dougie Poynter from McFly.

Several hours later, Harry was lounging on his sofa watching Teddy, who was sprawled on the carpet drawing, with extreme concentration. Harry had suggested that his godson might like to make a Christmas card for Andromeda, and this idea proved to be an unexpected hit, although Teddy's choice of appropriate images for Christmas was a little unusual: he'd started with a dinosaur, and was now surrounding it with what appeared to be house-elves, although there _were_ quite a few fairy lights in the picture too.

A knock on the door brought Harry to his feet. "Stay there, Teddy," he instructed. "This'll be your cousin Draco."

Draco seemed unusually nervous when Harry opened the door and ushered him in. "Have you told him?" asked Draco. "What did he say? Does he want to see me?"

"Yes, I've told him," Harry reported, giving Draco a quick hug and kiss. "He... well, he didn't say he _doesn't_ want to see you. He just sort of nodded and went back to his dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs...?"

"Come and see!" said Harry, going into the front room. "Teddy, look who's come to see you! This is your cousin Draco. His mum is your mum's sister." 

Teddy put down his green pencil. "Cousin Draco," he said, peering up at Draco. "I haven't seen you before. Your hair is very pretty."

Harry and Draco both laughed. "Why, thank you," said Draco. "I'm very pleased to meet you. I've wanted to for a long time." He held out his hand to the little boy, who shook it firmly.

"Look, Cousin Draco," he said. "I'm drawing the dinosaur who pooped Christmas."

"Are you really," said Draco without missing a beat. He knelt on the floor and looked at the picture. "That's really good," he commented. "I like that book, don't you? Especially the bit where the granny got covered in poo."

Teddy laughed so much he fell over, while Harry stared at Draco in astonishment. 

"What?" said Draco, grinning. "All those books are great. There's a whole series of them."

"I won't even ask how you know about them," said Harry, "but I think he likes you. Look."

Sure enough, Teddy's hair had turned the same pale blond shade as Draco's. Draco smiled. "Come on, Teddy," he said. "I'll help you draw the poo if you like."


	22. Families and Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda's here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 22: house & garden with lots of Christmas lights

When the fireplace flared some time later and Andromeda Tonks stepped out, Harry and Draco were lounging on the sofa with Teddy – hair still white-blond – asleep across both their laps. They looked up but, at a gesture from Andromeda, didn't move. She sat across from them in an armchair and regarded Draco for a few moments.

"You must be Draco," she said, nodding. "Harry told me you'd be here. It's nice to finally meet you. And for Teddy to meet his cousin. I see he seems to like you!"

"I hope so," said Draco. "He's a great kid. And it's good to meet you too, after all these years. I've thought a few times about getting in touch, but never quite dared – I didn't know whether you'd want to know me."

"Well, of course I do," Andromeda told him. "It wasn't _me_ that broke off contact with your family. And I've been thinking about getting in touch too, since I heard that your father had died in Azkaban – you and Cissy are the only family I have left. But I wasn't sure you'd want to know _me_. Thank goodness Harry bumped into you, or who knows how long it would've taken us to get in the same room!"

"Yes, I'm very happy that I found Harry again, for more than one reason," Draco said, smiling at him.

"It's a Christmas miracle!" said Harry, grinning. "Now, do you want to stay for some food? We haven't eaten yet."

"Not tonight, thank you, I'm quite tired," said Andromeda. "I just want to get Teddy to bed and then I'll be asleep soon after him. But we should definitely fix a date soon."

"I'd like that," said Harry. "Now, there's something we promised Teddy we'd do before he left, but it'll only take a minute."

Andromeda nodded, and Harry gave Teddy a little shake. "Your mum's here to take you home," Harry told him when he opened his eyes, "but we're going out into the garden first."

Teddy leapt up. "We're doing it now?!?" he yelled, and ran outside. The adults grinned at each other and followed him. The awestruck expression on his face, a few minutes later when Harry had covered the entire house and garden with Christmas lights, made the cold bearable.


	23. Cloaks and Coughs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a nice evening, but it ends with a shock.
> 
> _(I do actually know how this is going to end, but it will take me a while to get there, so in theory tomorrow's update will be quite long! In theory I also have plenty of time tomorrow to write it, but that theory doesn't often seem to work in practice!)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 23: Sword of Gryffindor pin

A few hours later, Harry was lying in his bed entwined with a naked Draco, on the verge of sleep and thinking that he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so content. They'd ended up ordering a curry when they realised they were too hungry to wait for food to cook; afterwards, they were so full they decided they'd better get some exercise, so Harry had led Draco around every nook and cranny of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. This had involved considerable embarrassment and many apologies: Harry hadn't realised how long it had been since he'd cleaned properly. There were some rooms that hadn't been touched at all since he'd persuaded Kreacher to retire (the elderly house-elf had gone to live to Hogwarts, where he apparently enjoyed shouting at some of the portraits).

The house tour had been good, though; Draco remembered some of the portraits and furniture from his childhood, and Harry had found all sorts of items that he'd been looking for but believed to be lost. Most useful among these was his invisibility cloak: he _had_ searched for that many times, but it was unsurprisingly hard to spot. (Draco said something about "just like in Seekers Notes", but just laughed when Harry asked what he was talking about.) It turned out to be in a corner of the windowsill in Sirius's old bedroom, which Harry used as one of several guest rooms, although he admitted he couldn't remember the last time anyone had stayed over.

Less useful, but more of a relief, was a silver Sword of Gryffindor pin that had been a present from Ginny just before they'd split up; Harry hadn't wanted to admit to her that he'd lost it, so he was pleased to spot it on the floor near the coat stand in the hall. He still wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to wear it with, though; Draco had laughed quite a lot when Harry had admitted this, and demonstrated how to use it to fasten a cape. 

Somehow this giggling had become kissing and groping, and before long they were stumbling back up to Harry's bedroom, removing each other's clothes en route. Harry grinned to himself at the memory of the hour that had followed, and kissed the top of Draco's head, mainly to see if he was asleep.

"'M not asleep," croaked Draco. Then he sat bolt upright, looking horrified. "I'm not asleep," he croaked again, "and WHY AM I CROAKING?"

Harry instantly understood Draco's panic. "Maybe your throat's just dry," he said. "Let me get you some water." He did a quick wandless _Aguamenti_ to fill the glass on the bedside table, and handed it to Draco, who chugged half of it down. Harry looked at him expectantly.

"It feels a bit better," said Draco, "but..."

"I can hear. You're still croaky," Harry finished. "Is your throat sore? Can you sing?"

Draco tried a hum, but almost immediately it made him break into a dry cough. He drank some more water and tried again: this time the coughing was more extreme. " _Nessun dorma_ ," he sang very quietly, but even Harry could hear that something was very wrong.

"What am I going to do?" Draco asked, sounding near to tears.


	24. Mince Pies and Steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help is at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 24: Christmas feast

Harry got out of bed and pulled Draco with him. "Get dressed," he said, pulling on his underwear. "We're going to The Burrow."

Draco froze. "The Burrow?" he asked croakily. "Isn't that where the Weasleys live? Are you sure that's a good idea? They won't want to see me."

"Yes, they will," Harry told him firmly. "I haven't seen them since... well, since we got together, but I know they know about us, and they're happy that I'm happy."

Draco frowned, and then reached for his wand, still naked. He used it to write glowing words in the air. _I should probably not speak at all for the time being_ , said the text. _I do know enough about vocal care to know that total vocal rest is the most important treatment. Is that OK? Also, are you sure about the Weasleys? I've been horrible to them in the past. And why are we going there anyway?_

"Get dressed before you freeze to death," said Harry, after he read this. He cast a wandless warming charm over Draco just to be on the safe side. "And don't worry. It was the old Malfoy that did all those bad things, and they will know that I wouldn't be with you unless you'd changed. They are good people and they will give you the chance to show them what sort of a person you are _now_. As for why: Molly Weasley knows more about healing magic than anyone else I know. Hermione's pretty good, but she's still learning. Molly's been doing it for decades and she's a natural. If I was sick, she'd always be the one I'd go to first."

 _Very well. I trust you._ As the letters faded away, Draco quickly got dressed. Harry gave him a quick hug and led the way downstairs to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, passed the pot to Draco, shouted "The Burrow!" and stepped through the flames.

*********

The room was in semi-darkness when Harry arrived, so he was still standing in the same spot when Draco emerged and landed practically on top of him.

"Sorry," muttered Harry, grabbing him to stop them both falling over. "Molly? Arthur?" he called.

"IN THE KITCHEN," came Molly's reply, so Harry took Draco's hand and led the way.

Arthur Weasley was sitting at the kitchen table when they got there; he was eating a mince pie, and the amount of crumbs on his plate suggested that there had been considerably more than one. He smiled at Harry and Draco but continued eating. Molly Weasley was standing at the stove stirring something; but after a few seconds she left it to stir itself and came over to the table, which was covered with a ridiculous amount of food given that it was quite late in the evening. There were two turkeys and three Christmas cakes, plus many dishes of vegetables and a gravy boat. Molly waved her wand, and the plates obediently rearranged themselves so that there was room for her to add two empty plates. 

Molly nodded in satisfaction. "Harry, it's lovely to see you, as always," she said, giving him a hug. "And how lovely that you've brought Draco with you. Ron's been telling us all about how happy you've made Harry this week. I'm so pleased the two of you have found each other." She enfolded Draco in her arms; he looked rather startled, Harry thought, but accepted the hug with a shocked smile on his face.

"But I'm guessing there's a reason you've come round so late in the evening?" Molly continued. "Tell us what we can do to help, and then we can have something to eat. I was just getting a few snacks ready for Charlie and some friends of his – they're coming over later tonight – but I think there'll be enough for them even if we make a head start."

"I keep telling her that there'll be enough for them even if the whole of the wizarding population comes to eat first, but you know what she's like," said Arthur, wiping his mouth. "It's good to see you again, Draco. And I need to talk to you about a fascinating thing that Ron said was called a Blue Mouth? Sounds ingenious. Do you have it with you?"

Draco looked baffled; as did Harry, until he worked it out and laughed. "He means your bluetooth speaker," he told Draco. "Sorry, Arthur, we don't have it with us, but Draco'll definitely bring it next time. It _is_ ingenious."

Draco nodded, then took out his wand to write in the air. _Please accept my apologies for not speaking at the moment_ , he wrote. _Harry will explain why in a second. And, even more importantly, please accept my apologies for all the things I did in the war. I know I hurt you and I wish I could make it up to you._

"You already have, by making Harry happy," Molly told him. "No apology necessary, but consider it accepted anyway. I can see you're not the same person you were at school. Now, Ron's told me about your singing, so I'm assuming that the current problem is with your voice?"

Draco nodded gratefully, and Harry explained what had happened. "So, any ideas?" he finished. "Draco has an important recital on Friday. He's been practising for it for months, and he _really_ needs his voice to be perfect by then."

Molly nodded. "Well, you're already doing the most important thing, Draco, dear, by not using your voice at all. You need to stick to that for as long as you can; let's see, it's Tuesday night now, and I presume you'll need to sing at least a little just before Friday... could you manage not speaking or singing until Thursday evening, do you think? That would help a lot."

Draco nodded. "But will that be enough to fix him?" Harry asked. 

"No, probably not," said Molly, "but it'll help more than anything else. The voice is a very sensitive thing and it can react badly if you try and alter it with magic, so the best strategy for things like this is to use mainly physical cures – same as a Muggle would – but I do know some spells that can enhance their effects."

 _Steam inhalations, honey and lemon in hot water, keep sipping room-temperature liquids nonstop?_ wrote Draco.

"Exactly," Molly told him approvingly. "You _do_ know your stuff, don't you? But don't worry. Between us, we will have you in tiptop vocal condition by Friday, I promise. And I am looking forward to coming to watch."


	25. Stages and Bows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the big day!
> 
> NB this may make your teeth rot due to extreme fluffiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** 25: Santa hat on a beach
> 
> Note: sorry if the length of this last part is a bit of a shock compared to the earlier ones! I told you I had a bit of a way to go! And this last part took a REALLY LONG TIME not just because it’s long, but also because I had to do it all on my phone. BUT IT’S DONE \o/
> 
> Links to the songs in this chapter are now in the end notes. Thank you for reading!

At teatime on Thursday, Harry and Draco were back at the Burrow, this time accompanied by Ron and Hermione. The intervening couple of days had been eventful, despite Draco having been unable to speak out loud. He and Harry had cooked for Hermione and Ron on the Wednesday night, and the four of them had discussed careers: first thing on Thursday morning, both Ron and Harry had handed in their notice as Aurors, causing actual weeping and wailing (in some cases) and stony glares (in others) among their soon-to-be-ex-colleagues, but euphoria in Ron and Harry themselves. They both had holidays owing, and were therefore to be allowed to leave on Christmas Eve. Ron had told a delighted George that he’d join him part-time before then and full-time from Boxing Day onwards. 

Harry, on the urging of both Draco and Hermione, was planning to do nothing whatsoever for his immediate future; he still didn’t have any real idea what he wanted to do other than “not be an Auror”, and had been persuaded that taking a proper break – for the first time in his life – would help him to decide, and thanks to his parents’ legacy it would be a while before he needed to worry about money. 

He’d also decided to move into Peacock Cottage with Draco to see how that worked out: although they knew it was very early in their relationship for such a big step, they’d realised they both wanted to try living together, but keeping both properties available just in case. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing over which house they’d choose (“I don’t mind, it’s up to you, I’ll be happy in either as long as I’m with you”; “so would I, I really don’t mind, shall we toss a coin?”) Hermione had pointed out that Harry was always saying that Grimmauld Place was far too big for him, and so it would make sense for him to try the smaller Peacock Cottage. (Also, his phone seemed to work better there for some reason, which was a bonus.)

Now, at the Burrow, the four of them were sitting in armchairs around the fireplace, and Hermione was mid-rant. 

“It just annoys me every time,” she was saying. “Coca-Cola are the worst. Have you seen their posters this year? They’re all over the place: Holidays are Coming. And I know they’re an American company, but surely they could have done some _basic_ local research and found that ‘holidays’ does not mean Christmas to a British person?”

“I agree totally,” said Harry. “We often get American Aurors visiting, and they’re all so friendly and they always say ‘what are you doing for the holidays?’ and _every time_ I think ‘why are you asking now, it’s only December’ before I remember that they’re actually referring to Christmas rather than the summer.”

“I get the same thing with the American students at the Guildhall,” said Draco, prompting big smiles from the others as it was the first time he’d spoken in two days. “I always end up with a confused mental image of a Santa hat on a beach.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Molly, coming in with a tray of hot chocolate, “but your voice sounds good, Draco. How does it feel?”

“It feels back to normal,” Draco told her. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. It would have got there on its own, but not in time for tomorrow if it hadn’t been for you.”

Molly beamed. “You are very welcome,” she said. “I’m just glad it worked. As I said, the human voice is one of the most delicate parts of the body - if you weren’t a singer, I could have healed you more quickly, but I couldn’t have guaranteed that your voice wouldn’t be changed. The spells I used were slower but safer.”

“Well, I am very pleased to have them in my repertoire – I will certainly use them again in the future, so thank you for the education,” said Draco. “I’m indebted to you.”

“I am too, as ever, Molly,” added Hermione. “You know how much I like to discover new spells, and it’s almost always you I get them from these days.”

“And obviously I am too,” Harry chimed in. “It means a lot to me that you went to so much trouble to help Draco.”

Ron grinned at them all. “I’m just feeling smug for having the best mum in the world,” he announced. 

Molly was blushing furiously, and wiped a tear from her eye. “You are all much too kind,” she said. “It was no trouble at all. But I’m glad you’re feeling better, Draco dear. In fact, could I…? No, I’d better not. Never mind.”

“Anything,” Draco said. “I’ll do anything for you. What were you about to ask?”

“Well, alright… but promise me you’ll say no if it’s a problem?” At Draco’s nod, Molly continued: “I know you haven’t practised for a few days, but… please could you sing a song for us?”

The others all sat up expectantly, and Draco grinned. “I thought you were going to ask something really difficult then!” he said. “Yes, of course. I need to practise for tomorrow anyway – I’ll save those songs for you to hear then, but I can definitely sing you a different song now as a warmup. Any requests?”

Molly considered this. “Well, I’m an old romantic at heart,” she confessed, “so do you know any love songs?”

“Molly Weasley, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to sing you a love song,” said Draco, grabbing her hand and kissing it dramatically. “You’d better call your husband, though.”

“Bloody hell, what sort of a love song are you planning to sing?!?” demanded Ron. 

Draco laughed. “Not because of the song,” he explained. “Because I need to use this.” 

He rummaged in his bag and produced his Bluetooth speaker. “Wha…. ohhhh, I see,” said Ron. “DAAAAD!”

Arthur rushed into the room, and there was a predictable delay while the basics of Bluetooth were explained. Harry was only half-sure he understood the concept himself, but Arthur seemed happy, so the questions ended and Draco stood up to perform, setting the speaker on the mantelpiece. 

After fiddling with his phone briefly, he lifted his head and smiled at them. “This is an old Muggle pop song,” he told his audience. “It was sung in the 1950s by a guy called Johnny Mathis, and it’s the most romantic song I know. It’s called _Misty_.”

_Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree, and I feel like I'm clinging to a cloud. I can't understand: I get misty just holding your hand._

_Walk my way, and a thousand violins begin to play, or it might be the sound of your hello, that music I hear: I get misty the moment you're near._

_You can say that you're leading me on, but it's just what I want you to do. Don't you notice how hopelessly I'm lost? That's why I'm following you._

_On my own, would I wander through this wonderland alone, never knowing my right foot from my left, my hat from my glove? I'm too misty, and too much in love._

Draco repeated the last line, and they all burst into applause, but Draco’s eyes were fixed on Harry, who stood up and kissed him. 

“That was beautiful, Draco,” said Hermione, dabbing at her eyes. “I must admit that I hadn’t expected you to be as good as you obviously are, despite what Harry said. And I think I’ve heard that song before, but I like your version better.”

“That was amazing, mate,” said Ron, who was also quite tearful. “I was only going to this thing tomorrow to be supportive, but I’m actually looking forward to it now, if it’s all going to be as good as that. And… I see it now. You and Harry, I mean.”

Draco and Harry, their arms still wrapped around each other, both beamed at him. “Thank you all for your support,” said Draco. “And also to you for welcoming me into your home when I didn’t expect you would, Molly and Arthur.” 

“You know we’re delighted to have you,” Arthur said, “but I suspect it’ll take us a while to fully convince you.”

“In the meantime, thank you so much for singing for us, Draco,” said Molly, getting up to kiss both him and Harry on the cheek. “I’m really looking forward to hearing more of you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to that too,” Draco told her. “Speaking of which, I need to go and practise. Please will you excuse me? Thank you again, Molly, for your help with my voice.”

“I’ll bid you all farewell too,” said Harry. “Draco, I have something I need to do that’ll probably take me the rest of this evening, but do you want me to stay with you tonight, or would you rather be left alone?”

Draco smiled at him. “Thanks for the consideration, but I’d love it if you stayed,” he said. “I’m not going to practise all night – just an hour so, maybe a bit longer if I can get hold of Rabia – so I’ll be home before you will.”

He shook everyone’s hands, kissed Harry, and stepped into the fireplace with a wave. 

“Right,” said Harry urgently, turning to the others. “I’m going to need some help with this, please.”

*********

At four o’clock the next afternoon, Draco and Rabia were waiting in the wings at the Barbican concert hall as the fifth recital ended (with an unnecessarily operatic version of _Let It Go_ which made them look at each other in horror). Draco had been pleased when he’d found out that he’d been chosen to go last, but he was no longer sure it was a good thing, as his nerves had increased exponentially during his classmates’ performances, some of which were much better than he’d expected. 

When he confessed this to Rabia, she hugged him. “You’re still the best, though, I promise you,” she assured him. “You’re doing better songs, and you sing them better than anyone I’ve ever heard, and Harry is in the seat I reserved for him – I’ve been and checked, don’t worry. And he has a surprise for you which will make things even better. You’re going to love it.”

Draco looked at her quizzically, but she just grinned and gave him a little push towards the stage, as the presenter had just announced them. 

*********

When Draco walked out onto the stage and stood in front of the piano, there was much more applause than he’d been expecting. “Probably they’re just glad it’ll be over after me,” he thought to himself as he bowed, slightly blinded by the floodlights. 

When he stood up again, his eyes became gradually adjusted to the lights, and he saw that the 1900-capacity hall was only about a quarter full, which was still a lot more people than he’d expected for a student recital. He immediately spotted Harry in the middle of the front row smiling proudly; Hermione and Ron were on either side of him, and Molly and Arthur were on the other side of Ron.

But then Draco glanced at the rest of the row, and it took all his training to prevent his jaw falling open. On the other side of Hermione was Andromeda, and next to her was Draco’s mother, who gave him a little wave when he saw her – which was a bit of a cheek, Draco thought, considering that she hadn’t seemed interested when he’d mentioned his recital to her a couple of weeks earlier. 

Even more surprising than Narcissa, though, was the rest of the row – Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas were startling enough (Ginny’s wink suggested that they were well aware of this), but on their far side sat Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and… good grief, thought Draco, even an almost-unrecognisable Gregory Goyle. 

Draco smiled at the audience again, mouthed “thank you” to Harry, and bowed again, mainly to give the lump in his throat a chance to vanish. Then he turned to check that Rabia was ready, and at her nod he stepped forward. 

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “My first song is _E lucevan le stelle_ from Puccini’s _Tosca_. The title means ‘And the stars were shining’, and the aria is a love song sung by a man who is about to be executed.”

The song went well – he thought it was probably the best he’d ever sung it – and at the end there was a short silence before thunderous applause broke out. Draco couldn’t help glancing at the faces of his family and friends (new and old, in both cases), and was gratified to see astonishment on most of them, but even more so at Harry’s look of extreme pride. Hugely encouraged, he settled into the rest of his programme. 

_Thy rebuke hath broken his heart_ (a very short recitative from Handel’s _Messiah_ ) segued into the dramatic _Ingemisco_ from Verdi’s Requiem, in which a sinner asks the Lord for forgiveness. A further segue led into the lengthy but beautiful (and, again, hopeful) _Te ergo quaesumus_ prayer from Berlioz’s _Te Deum_. 

By now, Draco was thoroughly enjoying himself. “We’re halfway through my programme,” he told his audience, who seemed – even those who were strangers to him – to be hanging on his every word. “So it seems like a good point to mix things up a bit. I do have one more classical song later in the programme, but right now it’s time for some showtunes. Now, the first one is _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables_ from _Les Misérables_ , and this song means a lot to me. When I first started singing it, I couldn’t help thinking about a man I’d known once. He’s the best man I know, and I’m lucky that I’ve found him again recently, and he’s here today. Harry, I’ve never yet managed to sing this without crying, but I think I might be able to today, with you in front of me, because it means I can hope for the future rather than dwell on the past. I love you so much.”

Harry gave him a watery grin and turned to give the rest of the audience (who’d applauded the end of this speech wildly) a quick wave, as Rabia launched into the intro. Draco soon lost himself in the song, but by the time he got to the final “empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will sing no more”, he became aware that most of the audience had tears streaming down their cheeks, those on the front row most of all; oddly, this observation delighted him so much that he did in fact finish the song without crying himself, for the first time ever. 

The mood lightened somewhat with the two Sondheim songs that followed: _Being Alive_ from _Company_ , in which the main character realises that life is better lived with someone else rather than alone, and _I'm Still Here_ from _Follies_ , in which the singer gives a list of good and bad deeds from his life and realises that the fact that he’s survived all of them makes him stronger. 

The audience was on their feet and whooping by the end of that one, and Draco and Rabia grinned (slightly demonically, it has to be said) at each other as they launched into the tour de force that was Schubert’s _Erlkönig_. Predictably, this appeared to blow the audience’s collective mind, and Draco was feeling very pleased indeed with himself when he addressed them for the final time. 

“In 1972, a British musician called David Bowie – one of the greatest musical geniuses of all time, in the opinion of many people, including me – released an album called _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars_ , and I’d like to sing the final track of the album for you today. Bowie went on tour and performed the whole of that album many times, always finishing with this song – then, in one concert eighteen months later, just before he sang this song he announced that not only was it the last concert of the tour, it was the last concert he’d ever do. Then he sang the song and left the stage, and the audience were in shock. But later he clarified that he just meant it was the last concert he’d do as that particular persona, as he planned to reinvent himself. And, ever since I first heard that story, I knew that I wanted to sing this song at the end of a concert if I ever got the chance. So, ladies and gentlemen, here is _Rock and Roll Suicide_ , and I hope to continue my ongoing process of reinventing myself. Thank you all for coming.”

The audience seemed to be holding their breath en masse as Draco nodded to Rabia and she played the simple chordal introduction. By the time he sang “Don't let the sun blast your shadow, don't let the milk float ride your mind” (which had always been his favourite line in the song, although he had no idea what it was supposed to mean – he comforted himself with the fact that probably no-one else did either) Draco knew that this half-hour was going to be one of the best memories of his life, and he felt joy bubble up inside him as he sang the final repeated lines directly to Harry, who looked just as happy as he grinned back at him. 

“You're not alone – gimme your hands, cause you're wonderful! Gimme your hands!” sang Draco. He held out his hands towards the audience – but focused on Harry – and remained unmoving while Rabia played the final amazing sequence of chords. When she landed on the last D flat major chord, the audience erupted, but Draco held his pose until the chord had totally died away (at least, he assumed it had, based on rehearsals; he didn’t actually hear the end of it due to the applause). Then he smiled, bowed, shook Rabia’s hand and walked offstage, shaking slightly with adrenaline. 

The stage manager pushed him back on immediately. “They’re not going to let _that_ performance go with just one bow,” she told him as she gave him a gentle shove. “That was the best recital I’ve ever seen, student or otherwise. Well done.”

Surprised and delighted, Draco walked back onstage and found the audience on its feet. He’d assumed at first glance that it was just Harry and his crowd of Gryffindors getting carried away as Gryffindors do, and that maybe the Slytherin parts of the row were going along with them just to try and fit in… but no, he now saw that it was the entire audience that was standing and cheering, and also that the hall was now almost half full, meaning that several hundred more people had come in since he’d started singing. 

Humbled, he stood there and bowed and waved and smiled; he brought Rabia out for another bow, and then they both bowed and waved and smiled some more. When they went off for the second time, the stage manager was still smiling. 

“I’m pretty sure we could milk it for another ten minutes,” she told them, “but the college’s hire period ends at five o’clock, I’m afraid, so I’m going to have to throw you all out. Congratulations, though. I really did thoroughly enjoy it. I might even ask for a copy of the DVD.”

Draco had forgotten the recitals were all being filmed, but he’d already delighted himself with the idea of getting a Pensieve memory from Harry at some point. A professional recording would be even better, he realised. “Thank you so much,” he said. “If you really mean that, I’ll bring you one myself.”

“I do mean it, and thank you, I’d appreciate that very much,” she said. “Now, go and find that man of yours – he’ll be desperate to see you. He was in and out nonstop the hour before the recitais started, bringing in all the rest of your fan club one by one. No idea why they couldn’t get here on their own, but never mind.”

“Most of them aren’t familiar with London,” Draco told her, belatedly realising how much effort Harry must have gone to. “Thanks again.” He shook the stage manager’s hand again, grabbed his stuff from the green room, and went out through the stage door, with Rabia hot on his heels. 

“Right, so this is level minus one, I think… I presume that means we need to go up, but I forget. This place is so confusing,” he complained to Rabia. 

“I know, I’ve got lost so many times in the Barbican – you’d think it’d be easier now we’ve been here for four years, but it’s not, is it?” she said. “Ooh, look, though, there’s a tube sign. That must be the right way, surely?”

Draco agreed and pushed open the door in question… and found himself in the middle of a crowd of twelve people who were all trying to hug him and talk to him at the same time. It was simultaneously an amazing feeling and slightly terrifying, and Harry, sensing Draco’s rising panic, stepped in. 

“QUIET!” he yelled. When this worked, he gestured with his hand. “Right,” he went on, more quietly, “there’s now a disillusionment charm over us, which should last long enough for everyone to Apparate out. I would be delighted if all of you would join me for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate the amazingness that is my beloved Draco. But I’d like a moment with him alone first – we’ll see you there in five minutes. Tell Tom the drinks are on me.”

The group cheered and started vanishing one by one; a minute later, only Harry and Draco were left. 

“Harry, thank you…” began Draco, but Harry interrupted. 

“Draco, I want to talk about everything that’s happened today, because it’s all been amazing, but I want to have enough time to do it properly, and right now we have a load of people waiting for us. So can I propose a plan? I’m going to kiss you senseless for four and a half minutes. Then we’re going to go and be sociable for a while. Then – if you still want to – we can wander through the shops in Diagon Alley. And finally I want to take you to bed for several days so we can talk in between lengthy bouts of sex. How does that sound?”

Draco grinned at him and instigated the kiss himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's songs:
> 
> [Misty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EM1Fqi7JiQQ) (Johnny Mathis, audio only)
> 
> [E lucevan le stelle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8lD9ZmYHhE) (Jonas Kaufmann)  
> [Thy rebuke hath broken his heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HA8lDh-UkJA) (Nicholas Sharratt)  
> [Ingemisco](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZlCSelK9tM) (Jonas Kaufmann)  
> [Te ergo quaesumus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eg5oS69yYBo) (Benjamin Bernheim)  
> [Empty chairs at empty tables](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POvsvbc1yC8) (Michael Ball)  
> [Being alive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1lbfzzjybU) (Chris Colfer)  
> [I'm still here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f39tcMB2JSU) (Chris Colfer)  
> [Erlkönig](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmx4MN3xZpM) (Ian Bostridge)  
> [Rock and roll suicide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jg4ekLG9Zo) (David Bowie, audio recorded version)  
> [Rock and roll suicide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD1nzOeS6U0) (David Bowie, live version)


End file.
